Love Alters Not
by Andromeda and the Sea Monster
Summary: Sequel to All That Matters. Mary and Matthew have been married for over two years, and although there is one thing they want very much that is missing from their lives, their love is as strong as ever and they have never been happier. But will they ever have what they both long for? (This story won't really make sense unless you've read All That Matters).
1. Chapter 1

_**When I began to write 'All That Matters', I didn't mean for it to be half as long as it ended up, and I certainly had no plans for a sequel. But as I was writing the last chapters, I felt as if it really was only the first part of a longer story, and so I started to write this. Again, I have no idea how long this story will be, although I do have a few chapters already half-finished.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

* * *

 _ **Summer 1921**_

Matthew opened his eyes and smiled as he took in the wonderful presence of his wife, her familiar weight resting on his chest. He took in the scent of her; vanilla, spice, sweat. He took in the sound of her breathing, even and soft. He took in the feel of her; her soft, smooth skin on his, her slight movement as she breathed in and out. It felt as if every inch of his skin that she was touching was tingling. He took in the silky brown hair, loose this morning after… last night. Oh, last night had been good.

He loved watching her sleep. He couldn't exactly say that she was more beautiful when she was asleep; she was so perfectly beautiful all of the time, there was no such thing as 'more beautiful' where Mary was concerned. It was more that she was a different kind of beautiful when she was sleeping. She was not the famous society beauty, Lady Mary Crawley. She was not the lovely eldest daughter of the Earl of Grantham. She was simply his wife, his darling Mary. She was sweet and innocent and looked so at peace.

He could lie here and watch her for hours. He did, actually, quite frequently; Mary slept better and longer than he did. They had been married for over two years now; all those hours had probably added up to several full days by now. All that time, and he still marvelled at it every day, the fact that she was here, with him. The feeling was familiar now, but it would never become any less special, and no moment with Mary would ever feel any less precious just because of the familiarity. Yes, life was good.

He felt her begin to stir on his chest. She murmured something unintelligible and snuggled closer to him. He moved his arm, which was draped around her, and began to rub little circles on her warm skin.

Mary slowly became aware of the pleasant sensation of Matthew's hand on her skin. She sighed happily. She loved being woken up each morning like this. The peacefulness of it and the gentleness with which Matthew touched her filled her with a warm contentment. For this short while every day, it was just them in the world. She wondered whether every married couple felt this way. No, she decided, this was so perfect, so special, she couldn't imagine anyone else experiencing anything that was even comparable to this. There was no woman in the world as fortunate as she was, because no other woman in the world had Matthew as her husband.

She kissed his chest, then turned so she could look up into those mesmerising blue eyes.

"Good morning darling," she whispered.

"Good morning," Matthew replied, smiling. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept wonderfully when I actually got to sleep, which was rather late, as I recall, thanks to you," she said, raising her eyebrows.

Matthew smirked. "You're not complaining are you? Besides, it takes two to do what we did last night."

"Of course I'm not complaining. Why on earth would I be complaining? I'd happily never sleep again if it meant I could spend every night like that."

"Really? I'm not sure I believe you. You like your sleep, darling," Matthew said, thinking of how irritable and grumpy Mary could be if she was woken too early.

"Not as much as I like you," Mary replied, and she moved further up the bed so she could kiss him.

When she drew away, she looked at him seductively. "Well, maybe I do need some sleep. But we're not going to go back to sleep now are we? So we may as well put the time before breakfast to good use. I assume you have no objections?"

"None whatsoever," Matthew breathed, and they proceeded to put the time before Anna came in to very good use indeed.

* * *

That morning, Robert, Mary and Matthew were going for a tour around the estate. They made sure to do this at least once every week, always with the three of them; Robert insisted that Matthew be equally involved in the running of the estate as he was, and Matthew insisted that Mary had as much right as he did to know what was going on and be involved in decisions.

Their system worked well. Matthew would, for the most part, stay in the car and read over papers and plans and legal documents. Robert would talk to the tenants, and Mary would be Matthew's eyes and ears in places he couldn't get to. Increasingly, she was coming up with her own plans and ideas, and with much encouragement from Matthew, Robert was beginning to value her contributions as much as he valued her husband's.

The pigs had been her idea. She had taken to reading the farming journals Anthony passed on to Matthew, although she rarely read all the way through, and it was from one of these that she had got the idea that pigs would be profitable. Robert had taken some persuading, but he had been brought around, and in the months since the pigs had arrived, they had thrived.

Drewe's pigs were the last stop on their tour that morning. This was always Mary's favourite place, because she knew that it had been her idea, and that it was turning out brilliantly. Matthew had always told her that she had every right to be involved in the running of the estate, and that she was clever and knew enough about the land to be very good at it, but she had taken quite a while to believe him completely. She had never forgotten her Father's words when she had asked about it as a child. It was 'men's work' and she needn't worry about it was all he had said, but even as a child, Mary had been able to hear the unspoken words behind the audible ones: women were not clever or competent enough to be involved; it was not their place.

When Mr Drewe's father had died, and he had asked to be allowed to take on the tenancy and farm his father's land, despite the fact the elder Mr Drewe had failed to pay the rent for longer than anyone had cared to count. While she, Matthew and Robert had all hated the thought of throwing the family out, after they had farmed that land for generations, they had thought they had little choice, knowing that they had to be consistent and fair and not lose money if the estate was to have a chance of surviving the difficult years ahead. Then Mary had tentatively suggested that it should be Mr Drewe who took on the experiment of the pigs; if the scheme made money, it would make up for the years of unpaid rent, and Drewe was the only farmer willing to try something new.

Now, over half a year since the deal had been made, this was the most prosperous farm of its size on the estate, and recently, Anthony and Edith had for once taken advice from them and had bought their own pigs.

The car stopped and Stark, the chauffeur, handed her out of the car. She always thought this was rather funny, as she would soon be checking the pigs in their muddy pen, but Stark was well trained, and wouldn't have dreamed of not handing a Lady out of any car he drove. As this was the last stop on their tour, and they were likely to have a lengthy and detailed conversation with Mr Drewe, Stark then helped Matthew out of the car and into his chair. Matthew wheeled himself towards the front door, and Mary and Robert followed.

Mr Drewe had heard the car, and as the only car that ever brought visitors to his farm was from the big house, he knew immediately who was there and opened the door before his visitors had reached it.

"Lord Grantham, Lady Mary, Mr Crawley, come in," he said, doffing his cap and smiling.

"Mr Drewe," Matthew answered, extending his hand. Drewe took it and shook it warmly. Mary helped Matthew over the doorstep and they went inside. The cottage was fairly large compared to some on the estate, and although it was furnished simply, it was warm and homely.

They went to sit at the kitchen table, as they always did, and Mary placed the papers she had been carrying on the table. They proceeded to discuss the business that had brought them there, and were brought tea and scones by a shy but friendly Mrs Drewe.

Mary smiled to herself as she watched Matthew consume one scone after another, and when she saw he had a little jam on his cheek, it was all she could do not to lick it off herself. The love and desire she had felt for him that morning had not lessened, and she was too busy watching him to really pay attention to what was being said.

"Mary?" Robert's voice cut across her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't… what did you say?" she asked, blushing so slightly, it was only perceptible to Matthew.

"I was asking if you wanted to go out and see the pigs, Mi'lady," Drewe said.

Mary nodded and rose from her chair.

"We'll go back to the car," Robert said, having no wish to get muddy.

"I won't be too long," Mary said as she followed Drew out the back door while Robert and Matthew left through the front.

She spent a few minutes talking with Drewe outside the pen, then they went in through the gate. Mary carefully looked all the pigs over, treading carefully on the slippery ground so as not to get any muddier than necessary, and was pleased to see they all looked to be in perfect health. When she had finished, she was just walking towards the gate to leave, when one of the pigs came up behind her and nudged her leg. She was wearing sturdy boots, not impractical heels, but the ground was muddy and she slipped. Before she knew what was happening, she was on the floor.

"Mi'lady!" she heard Drewe say. "Are you alright?"

Mary closed her eyes. She had a choice between the easy option of retreating behind her mask of haughty, aristocratic superiority, or laughing it off. Of course her pride had been hurt, but she had built up a good relationship with Drewe, and she needed that to continue. She could do this; Matthew was waiting in the car, she only had to get that far and everything would be alright.

"Perfectly fine, thank you Mr Drewe, apart from a little mud on my clothes. But then, what must one expect if one is to go into a pig pen?" she said as she pushed herself to her feet almost gracefully, and smiled at the farmer. "I think perhaps the pigs have had enough of me for one day. They seem healthy and happy, although of course you are the expert, not me."

"Thank you, Mi'lady, but if I may say, you are becoming quite the expert yourself."

Mary walked carefully to the gate, then went around the house to the car. Matthew and Robert were talking seriously and looking at some papers in the car. They heard her coming and looked up at the same time, their eyes widening in shock when they took in her appearance.

"Mary? What happened?" Robert asked.

"Apparently, the pigs and I are not such good friends as I thought; one of them ran into me and caused me to fall in the mud," Mary replied lightly as she climbed into the car.

Matthew squeezed her hand, knowing that whatever front she was putting on, her pride would have been hurt.

"Anna's going to have her work cut out cleaning these," she said, looking down at her clothes with a wry smile. "I'm glad that was the last farm for this morning. I am in need of a hot bath."

* * *

By the time she was sitting at the table for luncheon, washed and dressed in clean clothes, Mary had recovered from the injury to her pride. Matthew had only had to raise his eyebrows in the right way when she told him what had happened for her to realise that it was quite amusing, although it would have been far funnier had it happened to someone else.

Halfway though luncheon, Robert looked across he table at Cora and said, "Shrimpy's written asking us again to go and stay at Duneagle in September, like we used to before the war. He wants to get to know my three sons in law." He smiled at Matthew. "He was at Edith's wedding, but there were so many guests, there was hardly enough time for a 'how do you do'."

"Of course we'll go. We've not been for years, and it's such a beautiful place," Cora said.

Mary looked at Matthew and remembered he didn't quite know what they were talking about.

"Since before I can remember, we've always gone up to the Highlands to stay with Shrimpy at Duneagle in September. We only stopped going because of the war, and I suppose then we got out of the habit. Papa goes deerstalking and fishing with Shrimpy and some of his friends and we go for walks and picnics. And the highlight of the visit is always the Ghillies ball, which is always wonderful. It really is the most beautiful house, a castle really."

"Is that the place Rose hates so much?" Matthew asked.

"Yes, but only because she says it's boring. She loves it when we visit, and she loves the ball; it's the best chance she gets to meet handsome young men," Mary replied.

"Will Sybil and Tom be able to get the time off work?" Matthew wondered, doubting that anyone else in the family would have thought of anything so practical.

"I hope so. I hadn't thought of that," Robert said worriedly. "I'm afraid after all this time, I'm still not used to the idea of my daughter working."

"I'll write this afternoon," Cora said. "As for Edith and Anthony, they're coming for dinner tonight, along with Isobel and Mama. Edith telephoned yesterday and invited herself over and asked that Mama and Isobel be there too. She was rather secretive about why."

"I hope it's nothing bad," Robert said, frowning.

"She didn't sound unhappy or worried. She just said we'd have to wait and see."

* * *

Edith couldn't stop smiling. She felt like singing as she was dressing before leaving for Downton. After all these months, all the worry and the disappointment, she finally had everything she wanted. Anthony, of course, had been delighted, and had hardly left her alone since she had told him. She was looking forward to telling everyone so much.

When the car drew up outside the front door, she almost didn't wait for the chauffeur before stepping out. She beamed at Carson, who met them at the door. She knew he didn't feel for her like he felt for Mary. She had always been second best to Mary. But tonight was her night. Tonight, she was the one who was happy and successful. She had finally done something before Mary, she thought triumphantly.

But then she shook herself. No, that was wrong, that was unkind. She was so exquisitely happy, so triumphant at her success, but that didn't mean she had the right to be cruel.

They were greeted by the family in the drawing room; Isobel and Violet had already arrived. Edith was pressed by everyone to reveal her secret, but she remained silent on the subject. They would have to wait until she and Anthony decided it was time. She would announce it over dinner, for maximum impact. She smiled in anticipation.

Everyone in the room watched Edith over dinner. She looked happy and almost smug and could hardly keep her eyes off her husband.

When everyone had finished eating, Edith nodded at Anthony and they stood up.

"I know everyone is wondering what our news is. Well, I'm pregnant!" she said, beaming.

"Oh my darling girl!" Cora cried and rose instantly to go around the table to embrace her daughter.

Edith felt her eyes filling with tears of joy. She could still hardly believe that this was really happening. She had given up on the idea of children, thinking there must be something wrong with her, or that Anthony was just too old. And now she really was going to be a mother. She buried he head in her mother's shoulder.

To her surprise, the next person at her side with congratulations was Mary.

It was a surprise to Mary too. This was Edith, her sister whom she had been at odds with since before either of them could remember. But she was genuinely happy for her little sister. They got on a lot better now they did not live together, and now Mary found herself almost ecstatically happy that Edith had what she wanted. She embraced her sister and smiled.

"I'm happy for you Edith, truly. After all this time… how far along are you?"

"The doctor said his best guess was that I'd have my baby in my arms in early February," Edith said happily. "Oh Mary, I don't think I've ever been so happy in my life! How will I ever wait all those months?"

"Well it's not as if you have a choice," Mary said drily, then laughed. "Sorry, that didn't sound as nice as I mean to sound now. You won't mind the wait, I shouldn't think; Sybil positively glowed until the last week or so."

"I've not been glowing much recently. Morning sickness is horrendous; it's like a stomach bug that goes on for weeks, but worse," Edith complained quietly.

Mary squeezed her sister's hand reassuringly. "Well, it will pass soon enough. I can't believe how excited I am! I can't wait to meet my new niece or nephew."

Mary then had to leave Edith so she could be congratulated by the rest of the family. She went back to her chair and Matthew came over to her.

"You really are pleased for her, aren't you?" he said, smiling. "I never thought this day would come when I first knew you two. Whatever has changed?"

"We have, both of us. The war, growing up, and of course you and Anthony. You make me a far better person than I would be without you, darling, and Anthony is so good at soothing Edith when she gets all jealous or irritated. It's easy to be kind when you're happy. Besides, I have more important things to do and think about than baiting Edith."

"Like what?"

"Like showing you how much I love you," she said, and she leaned closer to Matthew so they could kiss. She knew it was mad, but while she was happy for her sister, she didn't want to think about the fact that she wasn't likely to have that happiness for herself, and the best way to stop herself thinking these thoughts was to concentrate on what she did have.

"Mary, the whole family is here," Matthew whispered as her lips came closer to his.

"Oh, they're all too busy fussing over Edith," she breathed and she kissed him before he could object.

Most of the family were indeed fussing over Edith and Anthony, but Isobel was not. She was very fond of Edith of course, but after offering her congratulations, she thought it best to leave her with her close family at such a happy time. She went to sit down again, and looked across the table. She smiled and shook her head when she saw her son and daughter in law kissing passionately, oblivious to their surroundings. This was not exactly an unusual sight, but it was rather amusing to see it at the dinner table.

She sighed as she thought how they should have been parents by now. Matthew, she knew, would have been such a wonderful father, and she thought Mary would make a good mother too. If it hadn't been for the war… But although she wouldn't have a grandchild, she did at least still have her son, which was more than many mothers could say. And in Mary, she had found the daughter she had never had. Yes, she was a lucky woman, and Matthew and Mary were lucky to have each other, whatever they did not have.

* * *

"I don't think I'll go to Scotland in September," Matthew said to Mary as they lay in bed with their arms draped over and around each other after making love.

"Why ever not?" Mary asked, frowning a little. "We always used to go, and you're part of the family now. Don't tell me you don't want to go on holiday to a beautiful place. Of course we're going."

"I didn't say you shouldn't go. Just me."

"Why on earth…? You know there's no chance I'm going anywhere without you. It will be such fun, it always is. It is so beautiful up there."

"And what precisely am I to do there, Mary?"

"What do you mean? There's always so much to do, we never have a free day. You know what Rose is like."

"No. Not for me. You'll go for walks in the countryside and the men will go deerstalking. What's the point of me going to sit around the house all day?"

Mary's heart clenched as she suddenly realised the reason behind Matthew's reluctance. Of course he wouldn't be able to go out shooting with the other men, why on earth had it not occurred to her before? And the ball, which she loved so very much, would not be fun for him either.

"Oh, my darling," she murmured, stroking his hair gently. "But would it really be so terrible to have to spend the days with me?"

"No, of course that's not what I meant. It's just…" Matthew trailed off, hoping Mary would understand his dislike of being the only man unable to take part in the sport. He knew this was rather silly anyway, since he had never greatly enjoy killing innocent animals for pleasure, but he simply wished he had the option.

"It won't just be you; Anthony won't be going shooting either," Mary said softly.

"Will he and Edith be going, after this evening's news?"

"Of course. A woman does not suddenly become useless and helpless and unfit for travel when she is pregnant, and Edith will only be about four months along by then. I would be willing to bet a lot of money that your mother didn't sit quietly at home when she was expecting you."

"And I would not take you up on that bet; I'd be sure to lose my money. I take your point and apologise. But even so, I'm not sure about going." He thought for a minute, searching for any excuse. "It's not fair to make William leave Daisy when they've only just had a baby. Bobby's only three or four months old. And I couldn't go without William."

"I know, and of course William will want to be with his wife and son. But Matthew, we're only going for ten days. And I know William is your friend, but we _pay_ him for goodness sake! And I am certain he won't complain. No, you are not using William as an excuse."

"But Mary, it really isn't fair-" Matthew began to protest but Mary interrupted.

"Well, you're suggesting that I ought to go without you, so does that mean you want to be with me less than William wants to be with Daisy?"

"No, of course not! I want to be with you very much, darling. But I know you want to go, and I want you to enjoy yourself. And… we've not just had a baby."

Mary thought for a minute, frowning as she tried to think of a solution. Then a smile spread slowly across her face. "No, we haven't just had a baby, but Sybil and Tom are going to have Emmeline with them, and they don't have a nanny for her. Daisy could bring Robert, and look after Emmeline while we're there." She looked pleased with herself.

"Mary, why do you insist on calling him Robert when his parents, and everyone else, call him Bobby?" Matthew asked, laughing.

"Because that's his name. I don't like nicknames. And don't change the subject. We need to make a decision."

"Alright, alright. Is it alright for a baby that young to travel all that way?" Matthew asked, slightly embarrassed that he knew nothing whatsoever about babies.

"I can't see why not," Mary replied, trying not to let on that she didn't really know any more than Matthew did.

"And will it be alright with Lord and Lady Flintshire, to have an extra baby in their house? And what if they don't want to come?"

"Of course it will be fine with Shrimpy and Susan, they'll barely notice, and surely William and Daisy will enjoy a holiday?"

Matthew continued to frown, trying half-heartedly to think of another excuse.

"I'm not going without you, and that is final. And don't you dare say the journey's too long; it isn't much further than London, and we've been there twice." Mary said firmly, knowing precisely what was going on in Matthew's mind. "We're invited, and it would be rude to refuse, especially when Shrimpy asked so specifically to get to know you, Anthony and Tom. And I don't care what you say now, I am certain you will enjoy it when we get there."

Matthew continued to look sceptical, but Mary could tell he was slowly coming round.

"Please?" she asked softly.

Matthew sighed. He just couldn't say no to her. She clearly wanted to go so much, and he doubted he would be able to persuade her to go alone. So really, he had no choice.

"Fine," he said quietly.

Mary smiled brightly. "So you'll come then?"

"Yes, I suppose I will. You've given me very little choice," he replied, smiling despite his concerns. Mary knew exactly how to persuade him into things.

"Thank you, darling, for doing this for me. I promise it will be wonderful; Shrimpy will have something planned that you and Anthony can do I'm sure." She kissed him again, then reached out to stroke his hair. "I love you."

"As I love you. Goodnight Mary."

"Goodnight darling."

* * *

 _ **Before anyone gets worried, I solemnly swear that there will be no fatal car crashes in this story.**_

 _ **I plan to post the next chapter quite soon, but after that I don't know how regularly I will be able to update.**_

 _ **I'd love to hear what you think about this first chapter, and while I can't promise to reply to every review, I will make more of an effort than I did with my last story, as I'm now a little more familiar with how the whole thing works than I was then.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Mary took several deep breaths with her eyes closed, waiting for the nausea to fade. She was trembling slightly and felt weak and drained.

"Anna?" she called out shakily. "Could you get me some water please?"

Anna, who had been waiting anxiously outside the bathroom while Mary was sick, already had a glass ready, and immediately took it in to her.

"Are you alright?" she asked concernedly.

"Perfectly, thank you Anna. Or I will be in a moment," Mary said, forcing herself to stand straight and smile.

"Are you certain you're well enough to travel?" Anna asked. "It's a long journey to Scotland."

"Of course I will be. It's nothing. Just this stupid stomach bug I can't seem to shake off. And Anna, don't you dare mention anything to Matthew, he'll only worry unnecessarily."

Anna hesitated before answering, "Of course not, if you don't wish me to, although why you insist on pretending you're well when you're not I don't know. Mr Crawley will notice anyway, he always does."

Mary sighed as she acknowledged the truth of this. He knew her too well. But even so, she would say nothing.

"Is everything ready?" Mary asked, forcing herself to behave normally.

"Yes."

"Then we ought to go. We don't want to keep everyone waiting," Mary said decisively. She walked out of the bathroom with her head held high, and nothing about her bearing betrayed the fact that she was unwell.

But Matthew, who was waiting for Mary in their sitting room, knew as soon as he saw her that she had been sick again. He frowned concernedly.

"Mary, I wish you would go and see Clarkson. Don't try to pretend you're fine; I know you're not. Perhaps we shouldn't travel today. You could go down to the hospital, or telephone and ask Clarkson to come up here. If he says you're alright, and you're feeling better, we could always join everyone else tomorrow. Or we could just stay here."

Mary forced herself to smile reassuringly. "Don't worry about me. The fresh highland air will do me good. It's nothing serious, and I feel fine now."

Matthew's frown did not relax, but he knew there was no point trying to protest; they had had the same argument the night before.

"We should go. The car will be waiting," Mary said, and she walked quickly to the door.

* * *

When they arrived at the station, they saw that the Strallens, the Bransons, Violet and Isobel were already there, talking in a group on the platform.

Matthew looked up at Mary, who was walking by his side. "Mother's come to see us off then. I don't know why she's bothered; we said goodbye last night."

Mary smiled. "You're glad she's here though, aren't you." It was a statement, not a question. Mary was sometimes almost envious of Matthew's close relationship with Isobel. She loved her mother, and but she had never been as close to her as Matthew was to Isobel. Cora might be American, but that didn't change the fact that the children of the English aristocracy spent more time with their nannies than their mothers.

Tom saw them approaching first, and nudged Sybil. She turned, gave a cry of delight, and rushed over, slowed slightly by Emmeline, whom she was carrying in her arms. Mary quickened her pace and went to meet her sister and niece, embracing them awkwardly, Emmeline making it rather difficult as she wriggled in her mother's arms.

"Oh Mary, I've missed you!" Sybil said while Emmeline babbled excitedly.

"And I you," Mary replied. "And you, my darling Emmeline!" She kissed the child's head gently. Then she looked at Sybil. "She won't remember us; we'll have to become reacquainted."

"Will you hold her while I greet the others?" Sybil asked. Mary nodded and carefully took her little niece in her arms. Emmeline stared at her with wide eyes as if she was studying and making her mind up about this stranger. Then she smiled and giggled, and Mary felt a rush of love for her.

"Hello, Emmeline. I'm sure you don't remember me, but I'm your Aunt Mary," Mary said, feeling slightly awkward talking to a child who couldn't really understand her or talk back.

Emmeline babbled something that may or may not have been a greeting, then reached up and pulled Mary's hair, causing a loose curl to fall out of the carefully arranged hairstyle. Mary frowned, but couldn't find it in herself to be truly annoyed.

Sybil and Tom greeted Robert and Cora, and Sybil felt a warm glow of happiness as she watched her father and husband shake hands in a way that was entirely friendly. Tom really was accepted as part of the family now. The fact that they had been invited up to Duneagle was a testament to this. There had been a lot of negotiation involved in getting the time off work to go, for both of them, but it was worth it.

It was strange now for her to think about the very different lives her sisters led compared to her own. For Mary and Edith, going away was nothing; they could go wherever and whenever they wanted. She wondered what precisely they did all day when they were at home. Her life was so full, with work and housework and Emmeline, despite the fact she had only been working a few shifts a week since Emmeline was born. She supposed Mary had the estate to occupy her, but it was not as if that took up all the time. She knew Edith had some interest in farming, but she must spend most days simply sitting at home or paying calls, or doing charity work. Sybil could hardly believe that this was the life she had always expected would be hers. She was so fortunate to have everything she had now.

The train arrived, accompanied by a billow of steam which engulfed everyone on the platform. Emmeline, still in Mary's arms, giggled and tried to reach out to grab the steam, frowning when she realised it was impossible.

"Well, we'd better take our leave of you," Robert said to Isobel.

Goodbyes were said, and Isobel embraced Matthew tightly and for rather longer than he thought was necessary, considering they would only be gone ten days.

They all began to get onto the train. Mary and Matthew were in a compartment with Robert, Cora and Violet, and Tom, Sybil, Edith, Anthony and Emmeline were in the next one. It took them a while to get settled, and by the time the servants had sorted out the right bags for the journey and made sure the family had all they wanted, they had to run to get onto the train in third class.

As the train pulled away from the station, Isobel walked along the platform waving at her son. Matthew waved back, slightly bemused at how emotional his mother seemed about him going away for less than a fortnight.

"Really, I don't know what's up with Mother," he said quietly to Mary. "You don't think she'll be lonely do you? I suppose she is the only one of the family left in Downton, but with the hospital to occupy her…"

"Oh darling, can't you see she's worried about you?" Mary asked gently.

"Worried? Why? I'll be gone less than two weeks, and we're only going to Scotland."

"Yes. But you've not got the best track record, have you, for going away."

"What do you mean?" Matthew asked, confused.

"Well, the last time we went away for any length of time was for Lavinia's wedding, and you came back from that with pneumonia. And the time before that when she waved you off, it was to war, and you came home with a broken back. Of course she's being far more worried than she needs to be, but she's your mother and she loves you."

"We went to London for a few days during the Season," Matthew argued.

"But she came with us then, and we weren't there for long anyway," Mary replied.

Matthew stared out of the window in silence, thinking about what Mary had said. He could not imagine what it would be like to be a parent, but he knew that if he had a child he would love him or her as fiercely as he loved Mary, and the thought of any harm coming to her was unbearable. He hated it, but Mary was right, it was completely understandable for Mother to be worried, even if it wasn't necessary.

He was brought back to the present very pleasantly; Mary leaned closer to him and kissed his cheek gently. As he turned to look at her, he found her lips with his and, temporarily forgetting the other occupants of the compartment, kissed her properly.

Violet cleared her throat loudly, and blushing suddenly, Mary drew away, looking down at her hands in embarrassment.

"If the rest of the journey is to continue in this fashion, I may brave the wailing of my great-granddaughter in the other compartment," Violet said sternly. When Matthew braved a look at her face though, he saw a twinkle in her eyes which told him they were already forgiven.

* * *

Matthew could not have been more relieved when he saw Duneagle Castle at the end of the drive. He was exhausted and his back was aching horribly. The train journey had been long, and then the distance from the station to the house was much greater than he had expected, and the roads were bad. He knew they would need to greet Lord and Lady Flintshire and Rose, and probably have tea. But all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep.

The car drew up at the front of the house and he saw Lord Flintshire and the woman he guessed must be Lady Flintshire standing formally on the steps with the servants behind them. Rose ran out just as the cars stopped and ran down the steps to greet them. The steps. Oh God. This was not going to be a dignified arrival. It hadn't occurred to him. Mary had ensured that there was a downstairs bedroom and bathroom, but she obviously hadn't thought of this, although it wasn't as if she could have done anything to change it anyway.

Well, there was no use worrying about it now; he couldn't just stay in the car indefinitely.

The rest of the family slowly emerged from the cars and were greeted by the Flintshires. Rose embraced and kissed everyone enthusiastically, taking obvious delight in seeing her cousins again, especially Emmeline. However, Rose's ebullience and enthusiasm did not hide the awkwardness and stiffness that was apparent between Lord and Lady Flintshire, even as they cordially greeted their guests.

Mary perceived it even from the car, where she was waiting with Matthew. Had it always been there, this tension? It had been so long since she had seen them together, she couldn't remember. Besides, then, she hadn't known what it was like to be happily married, and how one acted when one was happily married. Now, she knew very well.

William came around the side of the car with Matthew's chair and opened the door. Mary stepped out. She positioned herself so that she at least partially shielded Matthew from the others as he was helped out of the car by William; he was still sensitive about being watched while this was done, and she knew he would mind more than usual because he didn't know the Flintshires very well. When he was settled in his chair, Mary went to his side and placed her hand on his shoulder as he wheeled himself over to the bottom of the steps.

Rose's smile brightened when she saw them. Mary was as beautiful and elegant as ever, and was dressed in what Rose thought must be the latest fashions, even if they were travelling clothes. Matthew's eyes were every bit as blue as she remembered, and his hair as blond and shiny. They both looked rather weary from the long journey, but still, they made a handsome couple.

"Mary, Matthew, oh it's so good to see you!" she said happily, kissing Mary's cheek then taking a deep breath before leaning down to do the same to a rather surprised Matthew.

"Rose," Mary replied. Somehow her voice came out not quite as lively as she had meant it to. She was so very tired, more than she could ever remember being after a journey, and she couldn't muster the enthusiasm to match Rose's excitement.

When everyone had greeted everyone else, Lady Flintshire led them inside. Rose marched off with one arm around Sybil and one around Edith, chatting animatedly. Anthony and Tom looked at each other, shrugged, and followed them. Mary and Matthew waited outside for everyone to enter the house, then William carried Matthew up the steps, enlisting the assistance of a footman to carry the wheelchair. They were informed that tea would be in the library when they were ready, and were then led to their room.

It was larger than they had expected and although it was in a part of the house that was rarely used, it had obviously been recently decorated. Neither Mary nor Matthew really took this in though; they were both far too tired.

"Rose still has a crush on you," Mary said as she helped Matthew onto the bed, seeing that he was too tired to manage on his own.

"What makes you think so?" Matthew asked, closing his eyes and smiling at the relief of lying down. "And why would she? I'm much older than her."

"I could tell from the way she looked at you. And she was nervous about kissing your cheek in a way she wasn't with Anthony. And there's less difference in age between you and Rose than between Jane Eyre and Mr Rochester," Mary said playfully, flopping down on the bed next to her husband.

"I'm not sure about that; I can't remember their precise ages. Besides, I am married, and the last time I checked, my wife is not mad and does not live in the attic."

"No. But I can hardly blame her; you are irresistibly handsome. And the fact that a man is married has not put Rose off in the past, or have you forgotten Terrence Margadale?"

"I do hope she's seen sense in that quarter," Matthew said, frowning.

"I shall ask her soon. We always used to have at least one night when we would meet up in Rose's room at night and talk secretly. Knowing Rose, she'll want to continue the tradition."

Mary broke off when she looked at Matthew and saw the grimace of pain on his face as he shifted position carefully, trying to make himself comfortable.

"You're not going for tea. You need to rest if you want to even try to make it through dinner this evening," she said gently but firmly.

"You say that as if there is any chance I might argue, and I assure you, there is not. There is nothing I would like to do less than get up now. My back's pretty bad. I hate Scottish roads." He sighed. "How long until dinner?"

"Long enough for you to get some sleep. Turn over," Mary instructed. Matthew obeyed with Mary's help, and she proceeded to massage his back, relieving the pain in a way only she could. Matthew closed his eyes and relaxed, thinking of nothing but the wonderful feeling of his wife's gentle hands on his skin.

It was only when he was brought back to consciousness by Mary getting up to leave that he realised that he had very nearly been asleep. He was awake now, however.

"I ought to go," Mary said quietly. Matthew took in the weariness in her voice and the faint dark circles under her eyes.

"You're not going anywhere," he said gently.

"Why, darling? Can't you bear to let me go?" she asked playfully, leaning down to kiss him quickly on the cheek.

Matthew smiled. "Well, no, I can't really. But that's not it. You look as tired as I feel."

Mary feigned offence. "Matthew Crawley, did your mother not teach you the correct and polite manner in which a Gentleman is supposed to address a Lady? You can't tell your wife she looks tired." She paused, and said more seriously, "Do I really look that bad?"

Matthew reached out and stroked her hand. "You look tired. You've not been well, darling. I do wish you'd gone to see Clarkson before we came away. I'm worried about you."

"Now you know how I feel when you won't admit to being ill when you are. I'm perfectly fine. It's just a stomach bug I've not quite recovered from."

"You've not been quite well for ages, Mary, two months or so. If you're not better soon, I'm telephoning Mother."

"You don't need to do that. I promise, I'm fine. But alright. If it will stop you worrying, I'll stay here for now," Mary conceded. "I'll ring for Anna to tell Mama and Susan we won't be there for tea, but they will see us at dinner, if you're up to it. Alright?"

"Fine. Now come here so I can kiss you."

Mary smiled and lay back down, then leaned over to kiss Matthew properly on the lips. She would much rather stay here with him than go for tea with the rest of the family anyway.

* * *

Anna and William stood in the corridor outside the door that led to Lady Mary and Mr Matthew's room. It was time to dress for dinner, and from the soft snoring they could hear through the door, they had concluded that their employers had fallen asleep.

"Should we wake them?" Anna whispered.

"I don't know. They must be tired after the journey. I know Daisy is. And Mr Matthew's back will be sore," William replied, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet as he tried to decide what was the best course of action.

"You're right, but Lady Mary will never forgive me if we let her miss dinner on her first night. Although she really does need her sleep now," Anna said worriedly. At William's look of vague curiosity, she panicked. She couldn't let him guess her suspicions regarding Lady Mary; William had never been able to keep a secret, and it was clear that Lady Mary hadn't allowed herself to figure out what was happening. Assuming Anna's guess wasn't wrong. "You know she's been ill lately," she added hastily before he could ask any questions.

William nodded, then frowned again as he stared at the door. "We could say we tried knocking, but it didn't work?" he suggested.

Anna shook her head. "They won't believe that, and you're a terrible liar. No, I think we'll have to wake them."

William nodded again.

"Lady Mary, Mr Crawley? Mary, wake up," Anna called through the door, trying to moderate her voice so it would not startle them, but would wake them.

In the bedroom, neither Mary nor Matthew stirred. They were both so tired, it would take more than Anna's soft voice to wake them.

"Lady Mary?" Anna said more loudly, knocking on the door.

This time, the knocking woke Matthew. He pushed himself up on his elbows, drawing in a sharp intake of breath at the pain the sudden movement caused his stiff back. It took him a moment to remember where he was and to calm his racing heartbeat; being woken suddenly still startled him, even after the three years he had been home from the war.

His movement woke Mary, who had been curled up close to him. She opened her eyes sleepily and looked up at him.

"Matthew?" she murmured. He looked down and smiled at her.

"I think we overslept a little," he said. "Thank goodness for Anna."

Mary looked at the watch on Matthew's wrist, raised her eyebrows in surprise, and sat up.

"Alright Anna, we're awake. Thank you. Just give us a moment."

She stood up slowly and stretched, then went around to the other side of the bed to help Matthew into his chair. Matthew's dressing room did not have a connecting door to the bedroom, since it had not been a dressing room until a few weeks before, and Mary could see he wasn't up to pushing his chair that far without help. She opened the door, meaning to push him to his room, but smiled when she saw William was waiting in the corridor, anticipating his friend's needs as always.

"I'll see you in here as soon as I'm dressed," Matthew said, squeezing her hand gently, before allowing William to push him to his room. Mary nodded, then smiled at Anna as she entered the room.

"I'm sorry Anna, you won't have much time for my hair this evening. We didn't mean to fall asleep, only to rest for a while, but…"

"It's alright, there's time. Are you feeling rested?"

"Yes. I don't know why I was so tired earlier."

Anna looked hard at Mary, then looked away. She had her own suspicions, but didn't want to say anything in case she was mistaken. Although she was becoming more and more certain every day.

* * *

Everyone looked up when Mary and Matthew entered the drawing room before dinner, ten minutes late. Sybil looked hard at Matthew, her nurse's training taking over. She concluded that although he was rested and disguising it well, he was still in pain. There was a certain tightness in the set of his jaw which gave him away to her experienced eye. She doubted, however, that he would appreciate her noticing, so she did nothing to give herself away.

Susan led everyone through to the dining room straight away.

Mary and Matthew looked at each other in dismay when it became obvious that they would not be sitting next to each other, although Mary sighed slightly in relief when she saw that they had at least had the sense to take away one of the chairs for Matthew. At home, Cora had given up all attempt to persuade them to sit apart at dinner, except when there were perticularly important guests or very large parties, which were relatively rare occurrences compared to before the war.

Sybil and Tom looked equally dismayed; they were accustomed to eating at a far smaller table in a far smaller room, often with Emmeline sitting on one of their laps or in her high chair next to them. Tom was nervous about this first dinner. The only place he had dined so formally was at Downton, and he was used to that. He had hardly met the Flintshires before coming here, and felt as if he were acting a part in a play, and hadn't learned his lined well enough to be able to trust his memory. If only he could have been closer to Sybil, it might have been easier. Well, there was nothing he could to about it, so he would just have to do his best and not to make a fool of himself and embarrass everyone.

When they were all seated, they turned when they heard the sound of bagpipes outside the door. Mary rolled her eyes and put on a fixed smile. Matthew remembered Mary warning him about this, but the reality was even worse than her descriptions. It was so loud and the sound so harsh. He did not object to traditions, but why this was considered music he did not know.

"How marvellous," Robert said admiringly as the piper left the room.

"I should remind you that he will be back to pipe us awake at eight o'clock," Susan said, suspecting that Robert would not be so keen on it then.

"And he keeps it up through breakfast," Rose said, smiling.

"So the chances of getting back to sleep again are nil," Shrimpy finished with a similar smile to his daughter's.

"Alright Shrimpy, the point has been made," Susan said, looking sourly across the table at her husband, her voice suddenly cold.

"You've no need to apologise," Robert said to break the awkward silence, "I'm glad to see the old ways being maintained."

"Tomorrow, we'll kit you out with some rifles for some practise," Shrimpy said, addressing Robert and Tom, thinking this a safe subject which his wife could not interfere with.

"And what is planned for the rest of us?" Violet asked.

"Well, there's a picnic by the loch, the day after tomorrow," Rose began enthusiastically, "And the Ghillies Ball on Friday is always good fun."

"As long as it's not too much fun," Susan said. There was a few seconds silence. It was apparent to all the guests that their hosts were not a happy family.

Sybil broke the silence, saying cheerfully, "Yes, the ball is always such good fun. I can't wait." She turned to look across the table at Tom. "You have only a few short days to learn to dance a reel. We're going to be busy."

Tom could think of few things he'd like to do less than be put on display, dancing formally with his wife when they were accustomed to dancing Irish jigs wildly at friend's tiny houses and flats at home. But Sybil would want him to, so he would do his best.

Mary looked at Matthew to see how he was taking the discussion about the ball. His expression looked rather fixed, but when he saw her watching him, he managed a smile, and she could see from the light in his eyes that it was at least partly genuine.

When the ladies went through to the dining room, Mary went around the table to squeeze Matthew's shoulder before leaving, then cast a loving smile back at him as she left. She wished she didn't have to leave; not only would she have liked to sit with Matthew, she also wanted to be part of the interesting discussions she assumed the men had over their brandy and cigars. Instead, she had to sit listening to Edith chattering on and on about her pregnancy to Sybil and Rose; the only other option would have been to join her mother, her grandmother and Susan, whose conversation seemed to consist mainly of Susan complaining about her husband.

Mary didn't bother listening properly to the conversation. Unlike Sybil and Rose, she had been listening to Edith going on about her pregnancy for two months, and there really was nothing more to hear. She was happy for Edith, but really, considering how long Edith had spent lamenting her childlessness, Mary had thought she might have some understanding of how little this conversation would be interesting or pleasant for her.

She and Matthew had resigned themselves to the idea that they were not going to have children. Despite the hope they had had a year or so ago, it didn't look as if anything was likely to happen, and after getting her hopes up a few times if she was even a day late, and being disappointed each time, she had forced herself to stop keeping track of her monthly cycle and hoping it wouldn't come each month. The self-control she had learned over the years made it possible for her to simply refuse to let herself think about it. Most of the time, she was perfectly reconciled to this; Matthew was so precious to her, she needed nothing and no one else. But with Edith going on and on about it, it was hard not to feel something akin to sadness.

Matthew was not enjoying himself any more than Mary. The conversation in the dining room was simply Shrimpy complaining about his wife. It was not going to be a very enjoyable stay if this was to be what happened every evening, which seemed likely.

Robert tried to change the subject. "So besides the deerstalking and the ball, what's planned?" he asked.

Shrimpy's face lit up, and Susan was forgotten.

"Well, we'll join the ladies for at least one picnic while you're here, and there's plenty of decent fishing in the river, and then I thought we might play a round of golf; there's a links nearby."

"Sounds excellent," Anthony said, although between his reluctance to leave his pregnant wife for any length of time and the fact that there wasn't a lot he could do with only one working arm, it wasn't as if he'd be taking part in every activity.

Shrimpy looked at Tom and smiled in a way which he hoped was friendly. "Robert tells me you've never tried any of these country sports before."

Tom wasn't sure how to respond. Of course he hadn't done any of these things before, he was a working class Irishman. His one attempt at shooting had been embarrassing. But he wanted to behave respectably for the family's sake, so he just said, "No, but I'm looking forward to trying."

This was all the encouragement Shrimpy needed to talk on and on about his favourite subject with Robert, who was equally enthusiastic, and all the others were required to do was nod and agree every now and then.

Anthony listened with interest for a while, then lost himself in thoughts of Edith and the coming baby. It seemed he could think of little else. He had thought he was too old to be a father, and had felt horribly guilty as he had watched Edith's unhappiness when she failed month after month to conceive; there was no doubt it had been his fault. But now, there was a chance that Loxley might have an heir, and more importantly, Edith was radiantly happy.

Tom followed the conversation, wondering why the upper classes derived such pleasure and enjoyment from killing things. However long he was married to Sybil, and therefore connected to the upper classes by marriage, he would never understand their world or approve of it. However, he had realised through Sybil that they weren't bad people, or even particularly different from any other class. They had simply been brought up in a different world. It was rather a joke that he was spending a whole ten days as one of them.

Matthew was rather wishing that Shrimpy and Robert would run out of thing to say about shooting and fishing and such things, and go through to the ladies. His back was getting increasingly sore, and his shoulders were beginning to ache too. There was nothing he wanted more than to lie down with Mary in his arms and go to sleep. He shifted awkwardly in his chair, trying to get more comfortable, and knowing that he would have to excuse himself and go to bed if they didn't go through to the ladies soon.

Robert, despite being involved in his conversation with Shrimpy, noticed Matthew's discomfort and felt a stab of guilt. He should have noticed earlier, and it was his fault, or at least, partly his fault, that they had talked for so long. He suspected that Shrimpy's reluctance to leave the dining room had something to do with avoiding Susan. He was saddened to see the state of their hosts' relationship, and wished there was something he could do. But that could wait until tomorrow.

He drained his glass and took advantage of a pause in the conversation to say, "Well Shrimpy, do you think perhaps the ladies might be wondering what's keeping us? I expect they're rather fatigued from the journey."

Shrimpy blinked, then sighed, then nodded. "Yes, you might be right, Robert. Has everyone finished?"

When he saw they had, he stood up wearily and led them through to the drawing room.

Mary looked towards the door when it opened and smiled in relief when she saw the men coming through. She was thoroughly fed up of Edith and was tired, and worried that Matthew would be even wearier than she was. Her eyes met his as soon as he entered the room and he returned her smile. He came straight over to her.

She was trying to think of a tactful way of retiring early, when Anthony helped Edith up and said,

"Edith and I are retiring now; it's been rather a long day, and she needs her rest."

Robert and Cora smiled approvingly; they were glad to see Anthony looking after their daughter. Mary took her opportunity.

"I must say I'm quite tired myself. Matthew?"

Matthew nodded.

"Goodnight," he said to the room in general, before wheeling himself to the door, which Mary opened for him before following him through it. When they were through the door and out of sight, Mary went behind Matthew's chair to push him.

"Don't even think of arguing; I can see you're tired," she said, sensing he was likely to object.

"So are you, but you're right; I'm too tired to argue."

"Susan and Shrimpy never seem too tired to argue," Mary said sadly after a pause.

"Yes, it does seem that way doesn't it. It's sad. Poor Rose. You know, Shrimpy spent most of the time we were in the dining room complaining about his wife. It was terribly awkward, considering Anthony, Tom and I barely know them."

"Susan was the same. Rose told us it was bad, but we thought she was exaggerating. I expect I'll be hearing more about it tomorrow night."

"Why? What's happening tomorrow night?"

"Sybil, Edith and I are going to Rose's room to talk when everyone else is in bed. It's terribly childish, I know, but Rose is so enthusiastic. We were going to do it tonight; it was a tradition on the first night of our stay here. But Edith is tired and needs to rest, and to be honest, so am I, so we're leaving it until tomorrow night. That is, if you can bear to be without me for an hour or so after we retire," Mary replied.

"I shall try my hardest to bear it for your sake," Matthew said, with the air of a self-sacrificing martyr.

Mary laughed and kissed his soft hair.

"I'll see you in a few minutes," she said when they reached the doors to their rooms. Matthew went into his dressing room and Mary went into the bedroom.

Anna was already there, arranging Mary's things on the dressing table. She turned and smiled as Mary entered.

"I wasn't expecting you for a while yet, Mary," she said, surveying the untidy dressing table.

Mary shook her head. "Oh Anna, surely you know I don't mind. We're both rather tired, so we thought we'd retire early."

Anna looked at her hard. "Are you feeling alright now? After this morning… and it was a long journey."

"Oh, I'm perfectly fine, thank you Anna. Just tired. I'm certain I'm recovering now, and I'll be perfectly well by tomorrow. And there are no plans for tomorrow, except shooting practise for Tom and Papa, so Matthew and I shall be able to rest. What about you? Are they looking after you?"

"Oh yes," Anna answered quickly. Then she paused before continuing. "But I'm a bit nervous about this Ghillies ball." She was a little embarrassed to admit this to Mary, but they always shared so much, it would be a relief to get the worry off her chest.

"Why?" Mary asked, surprised; she always looked forward to the ball more than anything else.

"I suppose I just feel so… English," Anna said gloomily. They both laughed a little. "I don't want to look a fool," Anna continued, feeling rather a fool for saying anything. It was a ball and it was supposed to be for fun.

Mary sighed. "I love reeling. I used to dance until dawn every year, with anyone who would have me. I never used to drink much, but I remember feeling drunk on the joy and freedom of it. It will be different this year though. I'm years older than I was last time and… well, I just wish…" Mary trailed off.

"You wish you could dance with Mr Crawley," Anna finished for her quietly.

"Yes," Mary responded simply.

"I understand. If I could dance with Mr Bates, it would be… wonderful," Anna said wistfully. "It just won't be the same with any other man, will it?"

Mary undressed in silence and put on her nightdress, then sat down at her dressing table. Anna began to unpin Mary's hair without really thinking about it, neither of them speaking for a few moments, lost in their own thoughts, both imagining being twirled around the ballroom by their respective husbands. Then Mary had an idea.

"No, not with any other man. But what about with another woman?"

"What? I'm sorry, I mean, pardon?" Anna said, startled suddenly back to the conversation.

"Well, neither of us can dance with our husbands, so we must dance together," Mary said, quite pleased with her plan.

"Do you mean… are you serious?" Anna asked. "What will people say?"

"I have done with caring what people say, Anna. I have spent my life worrying about that, and it has brought me many more troubles than benefits. We will enjoy ourselves, and they will say we are having a better time than anyone in the room."

Anna attempted to smile, but did not succeed terribly well.

"What's wrong?" Mary asked. "You don't have to, Anna, it was only an idea."

"It's just… I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"I don't know _how_ to reel. Nobody's ever taught me," Anna said, blushing slightly.

Mary's face lit up. "Then I shall teach you! We have days. And Sybil is teaching Tom too, so we can have lessons together. It will be fun."

They were interrupted by the door opening.

"What will be such great fun?" Matthew asked, smiling as he wheeled himself over to Mary.

"Anna and I have been making plans for the Ghillies Ball on Friday," Mary said, then had a sudden thought. "What about William and Daisy, can they reel?"

"I seriously doubt it," Matthew replied, "but I'm sure they'll have a go."

"Well, I was going to teach Anna, and Sybil wants to teach Tom, so will you ask William if he would like to join us?" Mary asked.

"Oh, would you Mary? He'll be grateful. I'll ask tomorrow, but I'm sure he'll agree," Matthew said, pleased that Mary was making an effort for his friend. Then he looked at Anna, who was brushing Mary's hair. "Anna, I think we can manage from here, can't we Mary?"

Anna smiled knowingly and left.

Matthew went to the dressing table and picked up the hairbrush Anna had left there.

"We can't have you going to bed with your hair all in knots, or it will be a nightmare for Anna in the morning," he said, and carefully positioning his chair so he could reach his wife's hair as well as possible, he began to gently run the brush through her silky curls. The way the light from the bedside lamp reflected and danced as he brushed was mesmerising.

Mary sat still and enjoyed the sensation of the stiff bristles of the brush running through her hair. It was the same brush Anna had been using, of course, but it felt so different knowing that it was Matthew's hand that held it. Why had she never asked him to do this before? It felt so good. She looked in the mirror, but couldn't see his eyes, as he was behind her. She was suddenly desperate to see those eyes. Her hair was tidy and gleaming by now, the brush running through it smoothly, and pleasant as it was to have Matthew behind her like this, she wanted to see him properly. She reached out and laid a hand on his hand, which was holding the brush, then she twisted around to look at him.

"I think you've done a good enough job; Anna would be impressed. But have you any idea how maddening it is to have you just behind me like that? I need to see you, Matthew, see your eyes and your lips and the rest of you. Brush my hair again tomorrow. Now, let's go to bed."

Matthew, of course, had no objections. But as soon as they were lying down, the exhaustion overtook them again, and after a sweet, lingering kiss, they fell asleep in each other's arms.


	3. Chapter 3

On their first morning at Duneagle, Mary and Matthew were awakened by the bagpipes they had been warned about the night before. They both groaned, and Mary put a pillow over her head in a failed attempt to block out the noise.

"Someone go and throw that stupid instrument on a bonfire," she muttered.

Matthew snorted with laughter. He was already wide awake and found Mary's sleepiness and bad temper hilarious.

"It's an instrument of torture, not of music," she continued, flinging the pillow on the floor when she realised it made little difference to the noise. Matthew laughed again and turned to kiss her.

"Does this make being awoken at such an unsociable hour more bearable?" he asked as he drew away.

Mary smiled. "Slightly. But honestly, how do they live with this every morning? It would drive me insane." She sat up, realising it was pointless trying to sleep again. She looked at Matthew. "How's your back today? Are you up for getting up for breakfast, or will you have it in bed with me?"

Matthew rolled his shoulders slightly and stretched carefully before answering. "Not too bad. Yes, I'll get up."

When Matthew was up and in his dressing room, Mary leaned back on the pillows and breathed deeply. She would have taken breakfast in the breakfast room, but she was worried she might be sick again. Sitting up that morning had made her dizzy. She truly had thought she would feel better once they were here, but apparently that was not the case.

When Anna brought in her breakfast tray her fears were confirmed. The smell of the coffee made her suddenly nauseous, and she ran to the bathroom just in time. Anna followed and hung back as Mary was sick.

Mary was fed up of being ill. This really was getting ridiculous; to have a stomach bug that lasted this many weeks couldn't be normal.

Then it came to her. She had heard that phrase before. Edith. When she was describing morning sickness. Her heart began to pound. She had been sick most days for weeks now. That wasn't normal, not for an ordinary stomach bug. Yet apart from tiredness, she had had no other symptoms of a more serious illness. Her symptoms matched what Edith had described almost exactly. She bit her lip. Could it be possible…?

"Anna?" she said slowly. "What's the date?"

Anna grinned to herself. Finally Mary had noticed what was going on with her body.

"The second of September," she answered, trying to keep her voice calm.

Mary frowned as she tried to remember how long that made it since her last cycle, and her eyes widened as she did the calculations in her head. Surely it couldn't be right? If it was, that meant it had been… two, maybe three months, or near enough. How on earth had she failed to notice?

"Anna?" she began again, suddenly breathless with excitement. "You don't think… might I be… could it be possible that I'm…?"

"Pregnant?" Anna finished for her. "Yes, Mary, I believe you are, and although I'm no nurse, I'm fairly certain."

Mary stood still for a minute, trying to take it in. She had given up on the hope that this might ever happen, but she remembered Isobel telling her that if it were possible, they might need to be very patient. They had been patient, and had tried so hard not to be disappointed when nothing had happened, to the point that she had almost convinced herself it would never happen.

But it had happened. She was certain of it. It was surely the only logical explanation for the sickness and tiredness, both completely out of the ordinary for her, who had always been healthy and energetic; she couldn't remember being ill once in the last few years, and travelling had always made her excited rather than tired, until the journey the day before. And while her cycle had never been perfectly regular, she had never been more than a week or so late. She almost laughed at her success at stopping herself thinking about it; she had known she had good self-control, but she had somehow managed to ignore very obvious symptoms for several weeks.

This was real, it had to be. She really was pregnant.

She gave a wordless cry of delight and went over to embrace Anna tightly. Anna held her, tears forming in her eyes. She was so very happy for her friend. She had suspected that Mary might be pregnant for a few weeks now, but fearing that she might be wrong, had remained silent. Also, she hadn't really like the idea that she had known something so private about Mary before Mary had realised herself.

Mary took deep, calming breaths.

"I've been rather an idiot, haven't I? It was staring me right in the face, and I didn't think." She laughed, then became serious again. "I mustn't get too excited. I must see Dr Clarkson before I tell anyone anything. Nothing's certain. To raise their hopes, and then disappoint them… no, I couldn't do that. Oh, why did I have to find out while we're here?" she said, talking to herself more than to Anna.

"Could you talk to Lady Sybil?" Anna suggested tentatively.

Mary though for a moment before answering.

"No. She's family, and I want everyone to find out together. Besides, although I have great faith in her nursing abilities, I would feel more certain if a doctor were to confirm it."

"Could you call a doctor here? Lord and Lady Flintshire must have one."

"No. I couldn't keep it secret, and if I wouldn't tell anyone why I wanted a doctor, they would worry, especially Matthew. That's not how I want everyone to find out. And I'd rather see a doctor I know. No, I must wait. But Anna, surely after several weeks, and with the sickness, there can be little doubt?" Mary asked, her voice full of doubt, knowing so little of pregnancy.

Anna smiled reassuringly. "There can be very little doubt. I'm sure we're right, although I can see why you want to keep it secret until you know for sure. What about Mr Crawley, will you tell him? Because he's been so worried about you these past few weeks. Just imagine how you would feel if he was sick almost every day for over two months."

"Oh, no! I can't tell him until I'm certain. We've waited so long… and it's only a few more days."

Anna nodded understandingly, but secretly thought Mary ought to tell her husband. However, it was not her place to say anything; this was Mary's decision, and hers alone.

Mary pulled away from Anna's embrace and stood smiling radiantly.

"How am I ever going to keep from letting it slip? It's just so wonderful, how will I ever keep it to myself?"

"I'm sure you'll manage. I mean, you've managed to keep it secret from yourself for weeks," Anna assured her, smirking.

Mary laughed.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you! And to think, you and Lady Edith pregnant at the same time!" Anna continued.

"I hadn't thought of that," Mary said slowly. "That will be strange. And there will only be a couple of months between the children. No, I mustn't think like that yet, not until I know for certain. But Anna, it's so hard not to!"

Then Mary was suddenly overcome by nausea again, and rushed over to the toilet. When she stood up straight again, she smiled weakly.

"I suppose this will stop me getting too overexcited," she said shakily after taking a sip of water.

"Do you think you could manage some toast? That sometimes helps, I've heard. And I'll take the coffee away if it makes you ill."

"Thank you Anna, I think I will eat something. But how on earth am I going to explain to everyone why I suddenly can't bear the smell of coffee?"

"I'm not sure. I suppose you'll just have to find excuses not to be too near when it's being drunk. You'll manage it, Mary, and it is only a few days."

Mary smiled gratefully, then went through to the bedroom where her breakfast was waiting on a tray. She realised for the first time why Anna had been bringing her dry toast every morning.

"You knew, didn't you," she said, looking hard at Anna, but with a smile playing about her mouth. "How long?"

"A few weeks," Anna said guiltily.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Mary asked.

"I wasn't certain. And I wanted you to discover it for yourself."

Mary smiled. "You know, I'm glad you did. Will you stay with me until Matthew returns? I don't want to be alone now."

"Of course I'll stay if you want me," Anna said.

Mary got back into bed and pulled the covers up around her, then set the tray down on her lap and began to hungrily eat the toast. She ate only one slice, thinking that was safest, but it did help. She talked to Anna until Matthew came back from breakfast to find her.

"Still in bed, darling?" he said, smiling as he came into the room and saw her sitting up in bed, still in her nightdress. "If you're not too tired, Susan wants to show us the gardens. Rose said she wanted to meet us in half an hour, by the back door, so you'd better get up now if you want to go. Do you?"

Mary nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth.

"I'll go to my dressing room and read, so you've got peace to dress. Knock when you're ready," Matthew continued.

When he left, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. She had been scared she would let her secret out as soon as she saw him, thought her voice or facial expression would give her away. But apparently she had controlled herself well enough, even while her heart had been bursting with joy.

* * *

The tour of the gardens was more than a little uncomfortable. It soon became apparent that Rose and Susan had just had another argument, and they were speaking with exaggerated and almost sarcastic civility to each other, while behaving perfectly naturally with their guests.

Robert and Cora tried their best to change the subject of conversation to anything that it was impossible to disagree about, but this turned out to be impossible; whatever opinion Susan held, Rose was certain to disagree, even when everyone present could tell that she didn't believe the opinion she was expressing, but was simply disagreeing with anything her mother said on principle. If Susan told the party that a certain part of the garden had been there since the early eighteenth century, then Rose was sure to say it was the late seventeenth century, even though, at the beginning of the tour, she had loudly confessed to knowing nothing about the gardens and caring less.

All in all, it was a thoroughly unenjoyable tour, despite the beauty of the gardens and Susan's encyclopaedic knowledge of them.

Mary, however, felt as if she were floating, flying, soaring high on wings of joy. She was pregnant. Matthew's child was growing inside her. What did anything else matter? Susan and Rose could argue as much as they liked, but all Mary could think that was if she had a daughter, she would love and cherish her far too much to fight.

Of course, everyone would hope for and expect a son, and she wanted to do her duty to Downton by providing an heir. But she knew she would love any child of Matthew's equally. And besides, if they could have one child, perhaps it would be possible to have more. True, it had taken over a year for her to become pregnant, but it had taken Edith just as long. And it wasn't as if she and Matthew didn't try often enough. After years of marriage, they still felt like newlyweds when it came to showing their affection for each other. Making love in the middle of the night when she woke up to help Matthew change position was not unusual, and lie-ins were not often spent sleeping.

The future didn't matter at the moment though. All that mattered was that Matthew was going to be a father. And she was going to be a mother. _Mother._ The word sounded strange and foreign on her tongue, and she realised she had said it out loud.

"Mary? Did you say something?" Matthew asked, looking up at her.

"No darling, nothing important," she replied. But Matthew looked at her bemusedly as he saw the light in her eyes and the broad grin she was wearing. He could see she was fighting it, but she looked happier than he had thought anyone could possibly look on this disastrous garden tour.

"You're happy about something. Tell me."

Mary wished she could, but controlled herself. It was only a few days until she could have the pregnancy confirmed, and then she could tell him. If she was right.

"I'm just happy to be here. I love the highlands. And the weather is lovely, and you're here… everything's just so wonderful," she said.

Matthew could tell that there was more. There was something specific that was making Mary deliriously happy, and he was desperate to know what it was. But clearly he would have to wait; she was clearly not going to tell him now.

The tour seemed to go on forever. The tensions between Rose and Susan got worse, and both were trying to get everyone else on their side. Sybil began to think she was leaving Emmeline alone too long. Anthony began to worry that Edith shouldn't be on her feet this long. Matthew's back was getting painful enough that he knew he needed to lie down. Mary was getting tired and hungry; one slice of dry toast was not a large breakfast. But she didn't mind now she knew the reason for her tiredness. She would gladly endure anything for this child she was carrying.

It was Cora who finally asked Susan politely if perhaps it was time to return to the house. She could tell that Edith had had enough, and she understood Sybil's need to be with her child. Susan readily consented, and they went back.

Over luncheon, Shrimpy, who had not accompanied them around the gardens, having muttered something about finding guns for Robert and Tom as an excuse, began to talk enthusiastically about the shooting practise they were going to have that afternoon with the gamekeeper. He claimed that this gamekeeper was the best shot in Scotland, and therefore the world. He was looking forward to having Tom to teach because he had never done it before.

"What shall we do this afternoon then?" Mary asked Matthew quietly. "Do you want to watch Papa and Tom? Or we could go to the spot in the garden where I always used to sit and read when I came here and had had enough of Edith?"

Matthew smiled, but shook his head. "You must do whatever you like, but I'm afraid that after that interminable tour, I'm done in. I think I'll be spending the afternoon in bed." He took in Mary's worried expression, and took her hand. "It's alright, Mary, it was just a long journey yesterday. If I rest properly today, I should be fine by tomorrow."

Mary squeezed his hand. "I know. I'll lie down with you. How does a back massage sound?"

"Heavenly. But you don't have to. This is our first day here; you don't need to spend it in bed because of me."

"I am very much looking forward to spending the afternoon in bed with you. It's not like there's anything exciting going on anyway."

What Mary said was true, although she omitted the fact that she was actually rather tired herself, and could really do with lying down anyway. This way, nobody would be suspicious of her unusual tiredness.

* * *

"Well, how was your first go at deerstalking?" Matthew asked Tom. They were in the drawing room for pre-dinner drinks, and Matthew, Tom and Anthony were sitting together, their wives in a corner of the room with Rose.

"Well, it was only a metal deer and it didn't move, but I still managed to be told by that gamekeeper that I'm doing it all wrong. It was worse than the New Year's Day shoot; at least then there's only Sybil to watch me miss."

"Well, from what I remember, Robert's not the best at it either," Anthony said smiling slightly.

"No, actually, he's not. He was told off for shooting as if the deer was a pheasant. But then, he's so good at pheasant shooting, it's hardly the end of the world. It was good not to be the only one to be told he was useless though."

"Goodness, a country sport Robert is not an expert at. I didn't think it existed," Matthew said and the others laughed. "When are you actually going to shoot anything that's not metal?"

"The day after tomorrow," Tom answered. "Tomorrow, we're all going on a picnic, apparently. I'm not sure it will exactly match what my idea of a picnic is though; I can't see the Dowager sitting on a rug on the grass."

"Don't worry," Matthew said reassuringly. "Mary says that Rose is planning on going on another picnic in a few days' time. Without her parents, or Robert and Cora and Cousin Violet. I expect that will come closer to your idea of a picnic. It will be like the picnic we had at Downton last summer."

"Well, I suppose I can wait until then," Tom said.

In their corner, Mary, Edith, Sybil and Rose were planning for their secret late night meeting.

"Come as soon as you can, once the house is quiet," Rose said.

"I apologise in advance if I'm late," Sybil said. "It depends how long it takes Emmeline to settle."

"It's alright, we can wait," Edith assured her.

"I'm quite excited, you know," Rose said. "Everything is so different from the last time we did this."

"We're not telling you anything an unmarried girl shouldn't know, so don't get your hopes up too much," Mary said, looking hard at Rose and knowing that getting her hopes up was precisely what her younger cousin was doing.

* * *

"Don't wait up for me, darling, I have no idea how long I'm going to be. All night if Rose had her own way, but she won't. I'm serious though, you need your sleep," Mary instructed Matthew as she prepared to leave for Rose's room.

"I rested this afternoon. And it's hard to sleep without you by me side," he protested. He looked at Mary's stern expression and laughed. "Alright, alright, I'll do as you say. But don't be long; you need your sleep too."

Mary smiled, pleased with her victory, then kissed Matthew quickly but lovingly on the lips and left.

She crept upstairs, shivering slightly in her summer nightdress and dressing gown; it might be summer, but she had forgotten that for some reason, Duneagle was always cold. It felt silly creeping around as if she was doing something wrong. It was childish. But then, the whole tradition of talking in Rose's room was childish, and yet she was still slightly excited. There was something thrilling about whispering and giggling after everyone else was in bed. And somehow, she seemed to be able to stand Edith on these occasions, although that was less important these days; she had a civil and occasionally friendly relationship with her sister these days.

She found Rose's room and entered without knocking. Edith and Rose were sitting on the bed, Edith plaiting Rose's hair. It was like a scene from the past. They looked up when she entered.

"Mary! Come and sit down," Rose said. "Sybil's late. It must be Emmeline."

They waited another twenty minutes for Sybil, during which time Rose ranted about her mother and lamented her misfortune at living 'in the middle of nowhere', and Edith and Mary did their best to offer their sympathy.

When Sybil arrived, she looked flustered. "Sorry," she said as she sat down heavily on the bed. "She just wouldn't settle. She cries every time I put her down, and keeps calling for me every time I try to leave her. It must be because it's a new place; she's so good when we're at home. I almost had to bring her with me, but Tom's dealing with it."

"Is it hard work, having a baby?" Edith asked.

"Very," Sybil replied. "It's ridiculously tiring for the first few weeks and months. But it's worth it, it really is worth it. It's a different kind of love than anything you will ever have felt before, fierce and almost frighteningly strong. You'll love it Edith, I know you'll be a great mother."

Edith smiled gratefully. She was looking forward to having her child, but she was nervous too. Sybil seemed so natural as a mother, but how would she know what to do when it was her turn?

"What's it like, being pregnant?" Rose asked, looking at Edith's stomach in an attempt to see the bump through the loose white nightdress.

"Like magic," Edith replied. "To have a person growing inside you, well, it feels like a miracle. Morning sickness isn't fun, but you know it's because of the baby, and you are prepared to endure anything for the baby."

Mary listened with a smile on her face. Edith was describing precisely how she felt. She wanted to tell them now that she was feeling the same way as her sister, but of course she didn't. She drifted off into a world of happy thoughts, imagining a tiny version of Matthew bouncing on her knee. She placed her hand on her flat stomach. Or was it flat? She thought perhaps there was something different. Was it slightly more rounded? Yes, she thought it was, although she might just be imagining it. This made her smile even wider; it was further proof that she and Anna were right, and she was getting more and more certain. Now she knew, it seemed so ridiculous that she hadn't noticed before.

While Sybil and Rose continued to discuss pregnancy, Edith was watching Mary. Mary was usually the centre of attention, always involved in conversations unless they bored her. To begin with, Edith thought her sister simply didn't like talking about pregnancy because she was jealous, and she understood, knowing what it was like to be jealous. Mary's hand was resting on her stomach, and Edith thought she must be wishing there was a child there. She was sorry for Mary then; it must be hard for her to see one sister with a small child and the other pregnant when she couldn't have a child herself.

But when Edith looked at her older sister's face, expecting to see sadness and longing, she saw joy and something that was almost smugness. She didn't understand. What on earth was Mary thinking about? Why was she smiling as she touched her empty stomach?

But there was something familiar about the emotions reflected on Mary's face, and in the way her hand seemed so natural and right on her stomach. Edith gasped. Could it be…? But no, that was impossible.

Mary heard the gasp and saw Edith watching her. She stared at her sister hard, annoyed to be caught so obviously daydreaming. Edith looked away.

They both began to listen to the conversation again.

"Do you want more children?" Rose asked Sybil.

"Yes, at some point I suppose. But we need the money from my job, and I'm not sure I'm ready for the exhaustion of a baby again yet. And… well, after last time, I think Tom's still worried. The doctor said I had healed well enough that he thinks it would be safe, but you know what men are like in these situations," Sybil replied.

"What, does that mean you don't sleep with your husband and… be intimate with him?" Rose asked, surprised; Sybil and Tom seemed so close, and so I love.

Sybil smiled knowingly. "No, it doesn't mean that. It simply means that we… take precautions."

The other three stared at her in amazement.

"Really?" Edith asked, her eyes wide. "I thought Catholics didn't agree with… that?"

"No, they don't generally, but Tom is a Catholic by tradition and habit rather than because of any deep faith. He does believe in God and everything, but he's practical, and the truth is, it just wouldn't be sensible for us to have another baby now," Sybil replied.

Rose was blushing furiously, and Mary and Edith were still staring at their little sister in shock. Then they looked at each other in silent understanding. For every month they had been desperate for a child, for every month they had been disappointed, Sybil had been ensuring that she didn't become pregnant. The world was so unfair.

Mary wondered how she would have felt if she had been told this yesterday. Now, she was surprised, but because she had her own secret good news, it didn't matter, and she could understand how it might be more difficult for Sybil to have lots of children in the life she led.

The four of them continued with their conversation for another hour or so. Every time Rose tried to find something out which it was considered unnecessary for her to know, one of the others steered the conversation back to safer topics.

Eventually, Sybil said she needed to go and check that Emmeline was asleep.

After her departure, nobody could think of anything to say, and after a minute, Mary said,

"I think I shall go now too. I tried to make Matthew promise not to wait up for me, but I know he will anyway. I'm looking forward to the picnic tomorrow."

"Our picnic without the parents will be better. I can't bear having Mummy breathing down my neck all the time and telling me I'm doing something wrong. But still, perhaps it will be fun, if the weather's decent. Goodnight Mary."

Mary stood up and then had to sit down again. She felt suddenly dizzy and faint.

"Mary? Are you alright?" Edith asked, concerned. "Should I go and find Sybil?"

Mary forced herself to smile.

"No, I'm perfectly fine. I must have stood up too quickly."

She took a few deep breaths and rose again, slowly this time. Her head swam, but she kept her balance and forced herself to smile and walk carefully to the door.

"Goodnight," she said.

Edith looked at Rose. "I'm going after her."

"I'll…" Rose began, but Edith stopped her.

"No, don't worry. Goodnight Rose."

Edith rushed out of the bedroom and saw Mary walking slowly down the corridor.

"Mary!" she called in a whisper.

Mary turned and smiled. "I'm fine Edith, don't worry."

"You are not fine Mary! I've just seen you nearly faint just because you got up to quickly. Are you ill? You've been looking tired for weeks."

"Thank you for pointing that out Edith, I really appreciate being told I look tired," Mary said dryly. "Listen, I promise I'm fine. I _know_ I'm perfectly fine, so don't make a fuss. Goodnight."

Edith stood still for a moment. Should she follow Mary to make sure she got back to her room safely, or should she do what Mary clearly wanted her to do and go to bed? She made her decision.

"Mary, wait," she called, still in a whisper. "I think… I think I know what you're hiding."

Mary spun around and stared at her sister with wide eyes, her hands going automatically to her stomach. This was all the confirmation Edith needed to continue.

"You're pregnant." It was not a question, but a statement of fact.

"How… how did you guess?" Mary asked faintly.

"Well, you've been tired for weeks. You looked happy when we were talking about pregnancy, as if you understood. Your hands keep going to your stomach, whether you notice it or not. You felt dizzy when you stood up. And then you told me you _know_ you're fine. I'm not wrong, am I?"

Mary studied her sister's face. Edith was not the first person she would have chosen to know. But she couldn't lie outright, and besides, Edith was pregnant herself; she would understand, and it would be good to have someone to talk to who understood.

"You're not wrong."

"But… how?" Edith asked. Everyone knew Matthew couldn't have children, so how on earth was Mary pregnant? There was really only one explanation. But surely she wouldn't have… been with another man?

The old, jealous Edith of the past took over for a moment. Yes, she thought, that would be just like Mary, to use some man to give her a child and Downton an heir. Of course, they would pass it off as Matthew's, and Papa would be so delighted, he wouldn't ask any awkward questions or allow anyone else to ask them. And Matthew was far too nice and in love with Mary to say anything. Oh yes, Mary was a scheming bitch.

"How do you think?" Mary said softly. "You must know how it works," she said, gesturing to Edith's stomach.

"You wouldn't… even for you, Mary this is…" Edith said under her breath.

Mary frowned in confusion. "What on earth do you mean?"

"Well, we all know it's not your husband's so…" Edith said, still shocked at her sister.

Mary stared at her in shock, and suddenly saw it as Edith must see it. Nobody but she and Matthew had known there was a possibility of children. To everyone else, it must look as if she had…

"No!" she cried, forgetting to whisper. "I know what you're thinking, and even for you Edith, I'm surprised. How could you think I would do that? I love Matthew!"

"I don't doubt it. But you love Downton more, don't you."

Mary gasped. She had been accused of that so many times in the past, and it had brought her such pain. To hear it now was awful to her.

"No, Edith, you're wrong. I will swear on anything that this child is Matthew's."

Edith looked carefully at Mary. She could usually tell when her sister was lying; she had enough experience of it. And now it did not seem as if she was lying. Her eyes were wide open and seemed to be imploring Edith to believe her.

"But Mary, how?"

"With love and patience," Mary replied simply.

"You mean… Matthew can…?" Edith said slowly.

Mary nodded. "We've known for quite a long time, not far off two years. You don't need the details, but I assure you I am carrying Matthew's child as legitimately as you are carrying Anthony's."

They were silent for a minute.

"I'm so sorry," Edith breathed eventually. "And, oh Mary, congratulations! Who knows? How far on are you? How long have you known?"

Mary smiled. "Don't be sorry, I understand how it looks. We didn't tell anyone because we didn't want to raise anyone's hopes, but now, I see the situation we've put ourselves in. I think I'm just over two months along, but I'm not certain, and I only found out this morning. We'd almost given up, you see, after all that time, so I wasn't counting the days or anything, and I thought I had a stomach bug. Only you and Anna know. I haven't even told Matthew yet. I was going to wait until I'd seen Dr Clarkson. After all we've been through, I want to be sure."

"Well, I'm fairly sure. You'll have to tell everyone soon, or they'll guess like I did."

"It's only a few days before we'll be home and I can go and see Clarkson. Then I'll tell the family. Oh Edith, it's so exciting, isn't it!"

"Yes, it is. And Mary, I hope you know I'm really sorry for thinking what I thought at first, and that I am genuinely happy for you. I know we've not always been the best of friends, but you are my sister, and we're going to be going through this at the same time. We might as well do our best to get on a bit better."

Mary felt her eyes filling with tears. This was ridiculous, she told herself. Was the baby already affecting her emotions? But it was so unexpected to hear this from Edith, especially after what she had said only a few minutes ago.

They looked at each other, and without having to say anything, walked towards each other and embraced.

"Goodnight Edith. And please, don't say anything to anyone, including Anthony. Promise me, please."

"I promise," Edith replied solemnly.

They let go of each other and went off to their rooms.

Mary was surprised when she got to her room and found Matthew asleep. She had been certain he would wait up for her, despite her instructions not to. She was glad to see him sleeping peacefully. She wasn't sure she could have kept her secret if he had been awake.

She settled down next to him, curling up close so as much as possible of their skin was touching, and fell asleep.

* * *

 _He was walking along the path that led to the front door of Downton Abbey. It was obviously summer, and the birds were singing. The weather was beautiful._

 _He heard another sound, sweeter even that the birdsong, and looked up to see Mary sitting in the window seat of one of the open first floor windows, singing tune he didn't know._

 _"_ _Mary!" he called out. She looked at him, smiled brightly, and disappeared. For a moment, he wondered where she had gone, but then, inexplicably, she was standing next to him. She took his arm, and they strolled slowly to their bench, Mary still singing sweetly. They sat down, their arms around each other's shoulders. Somehow, it was autumn now, and the trees around them were clothed in leaves of rich, warm colours. One fluttered down from the tree above them, and he caught it and threaded it carefully into Mary's hair. She smiled at him. She opened her mouth to say something…_

 _And suddenly, there was a loud noise. The sound of an explosion. A shell. He looked around, and instead of seeing the house and the trees and the green grass, there was an endless stretch of mud, the ground littered with broken bodies. He looked down at himself, and saw that he was wearing his army uniform, which was covered in blood, although whether it was his or not, he couldn't tell._

 _Mary's screams cut through the deafening roar of the guns, but Mary herself had disappeared. He had to look for her. He stood up, and found that the mud was so deep, his feet were immediately sucked in. He pulled them free and began to wade towards the trench, which was only a few feet away. In there, he would be safe and he could look for Mary. But the mud was too wet and deep for him to move, and he was stuck._

 _Then a huge shell exploded in front of him, and he was thrown backwards, flying for what seemed like forever. Finally he hit the ground hard. Everything went black, but he could still hear the birds singing and Mary screaming._

 _"_ _Help me!" he heard her scream._

 _He had to help her, to save her. He opened his eyes, and saw the grey sky above him. He tried to stand up, but his legs wouldn't obey him. But he had to rescue Mary. He rolled over and dragged himself through the mud on his front, each inch of movement taking enormous effort. He looked about for her, but couldn't see her. All he could see from his position on the ground were the bodies and the barbed wire._

 _"_ _Mary?" He called. "Where are you?" The sound of the guns was so loud, he couldn't be sure she would hear him, so he called her name again and again, as loud as he could. And finally he heard her voice calling back to him._

"I'm here, Matthew, I'm here."

 _He looked back, and there she was, back in the direction he had just worked so hard to come from. She was caught in the wire, her bright red dress preventing her from escaping. But was it really a red dress, or was it white and stained with blood? He couldn't tell. And the enemy was coming. He could hear them now, their voices saying things he didn't understand. And above it all, the sound of the guns and the exploding shells._

"Come back to me, darling."

 _"_ _Mary! I'm coming to save you!" he called, and slowly managed to turn himself around and drag himself towards her. But he was so slow, and the enemy were running, as if the mud didn't affect them._

 _"_ _I'm coming!" he called again, redoubling his efforts to reach her._

 _"_ _You can't save me, Matthew. It's too late. You can't do anything. You're useless, you're only half a man. No, not a man at all. There is nothing you can do. I'm dead. They're coming. Goodbye, Matthew!"_

 _The soldiers reached where she was trapped, and surrounded her, and he heard nothing but her screams. Then the mud was sucking him in, drowning him. He struggled, but the mud only pulled him in deeper. And it wasn't just mud, he suddenly realised. There were white hands, bone with no skin attached pulling him down. Skeletons, dead men. The men he had killed, he realised without knowing how he knew._

 _And he heard her voice, Mary's voice, calling to him, "_ Matthew! Matthew!" _over and over again. And he couldn't save her. He couldn't save himself. He didn't want to save himself. He deserved this. These hands were than hands of the men he had killed, and they were getting their revenge._

"Matthew! Wake up! Darling, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

Mary watched in horror as he thrashed about in the bed. She leaned closer to him carefully, and kissed him desperately, willing him to come back to her. She had been woken suddenly, but wasn't certain whether it had been by Matthew or by the storm that was raging outside. She hated thunderstorms now. As a child, she had found them exciting, but now, they invariably meant nightmares and flashbacks for Matthew. Tonight seemed particularly bad. She had been trying to wake him for what seemed like ages, to no effect, although she had heard him saying her name several times, always sounding tortured and terrified.

"Matthew, please, wake up! I love you, I love you, I love you. Please!"

His eyes suddenly flew open, wild and full of fear, not like his eyes at all. She kissed him again, holding him tight, although he wasn't moving now.

"Matthew, darling, come back to me. You're home, you're safe, I'm here."

"Mary?" he whispered, as if he couldn't quite believe she was really there.

"Yes. I'm here. It's alright, it was only a nightmare," she said, stroking his hair, which was damp with sweat.

"They had you. I couldn't save you. I'm so sorry," he said, his voice shaky.

"Nobody's got me, Matthew. I'm here. We're both perfectly safe."

She leaned over slowly and turned on the light, and Matthew instantly calmed down. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're safe. You're here with me. Everything is alright," she said soothingly.

Then his body began to shake with sobs, and she saw his eyes, which were his again now, were full of tears, which were beginning to spill down his cheeks. She held him and kissed away the tears.

"Tell me," she asked softly.

"They were pulling me down, trying to drown me. The men I killed. And all the time, you were calling my name, begging me to save you. But I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. Because I'm nothing, Mary, I'm useless. I couldn't save you. What kind of a husband am I?"

"Darling, it was only a dream. I didn't need saving, because I'm perfectly safe here with you," Mary murmured. She felt like crying herself, but that was hardly going to help things, so she swallowed her tears and concentrated on Matthew. "It wasn't real, darling. This is real, this. Me." She held his hand to her chest where he would be able to feel the beating of her heart.

This calmed him somewhat, but the agitation was replaced by sadness.

"No, it wasn't real. But this is. It is real that I wouldn't have been able to save you if it _was_ real. It is real that I wake you up in the night like this quite regularly when you need your sleep. It is real that I'm a grown man and I'm frightened of thunderstorms. It's pathetic. It is real that half my body may as well not exist. It is real that I'm not a proper husband to you, and I can't give you children. I can't give you anything."

Mary held his face in her hands and looked deep into his eyes. He had given her everything she had ever wanted, and now, if she was right, he had given her a child too, even if he didn't know it yet. To hear him talking like this, even when she knew he wasn't thinking straight, was awful.

"You have given me a life that is better than I ever imagined a life could be. You are not nothing, Matthew, you are my husband, and I love you," she said, desperately hoping he would believe her.

Matthew looked away from her. "But you can't pretend we have a normal marriage. You give me so much, and I…."

"Our marriage is better than normal, darling, it's perfect," she said, and she kissed him again. He didn't respond, just lay there. Then the lightning flashed again, and then the thunder came, louder than before and obviously closer. Matthew jumped violently, then began to tremble uncontrollably again. His eyes were wide and dark with terror again, and Mary could see that he was no longer seeing the bedroom, but the desolated landscape of France. She pulled him close to her, and he clung to her as she whispered comfortingly in his ear. He didn't seem to hear her, and the trembling grew worse when they heard thunder again. Mary didn't know what to do. This was worse than it had been for a long time, and it seemed there was nothing she could do to help him.

"It's only thunder, Matthew. You explained it to me once, do you remember? Something about electricity. I'm afraid I didn't understand it very well. You'll have to explain again," she said, trying her best to remain calm. Sometimes talking to him normally like this helped bring him back to her. This time, however, it didn't. He was moaning now, and the sound made Mary want to cry, but more than that, to wish desperately that she could take away the awful memories that haunted him still, three years after he had come home.

She tried singing to him, something else that sometimes worked, as if she was singing a lullaby to a little child. But the thunder, and Matthew's moaning were drowning out the sound of her voice, and she realised that this wasn't going to work either. So she gave up, and just held him, hoping, wishing, praying for the thunderstorm to move on.

Then, without planning it or thinking it through, or even actively deciding to do it, she kissed him and said suddenly, "I think I'm pregnant." And finally, _finally_ , Matthew stopped moaning and seemed to come back to himself again, still trembling, but back in the present. He drew away from her slightly.

"What?" he asked shakily, pushing himself up on his elbows and staring at her.

"I'm pregnant, Matthew. You _have_ given me a child, and it's here, growing inside me." She took his hand, and guided it this time to her stomach, where she had been sure she had felt something earlier.

He gasped and stared at her as he felt the tiny, almost imperceptible difference in her body. If he didn't know every inch of her so well, he would never have noticed. But he did notice. How could this be true? After being told he would never father a child, after nearly two years of waiting and hoping and being disappointed, here was his beautiful wife telling him she was carrying his child. In the middle of this nightmare, this seemed like the best dream he had ever had.

"My God, Mary! When… How… I can't believe it! I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"You're not dreaming," she confirmed, kissing him on the lips, as if to prove it. This time, he did respond, kissing her back hungrily, desperately, pulling her down to him so their bodies were locked together in a tight embrace. With the next rumbling of thunder (thankfully slightly quieter and further away) he stiffened again and clung to her so tightly it was almost painful. Soon though, he calmed down a little, took several deep breaths, and relaxed his hold on her, realising it couldn't be comfortable for her.

When they drew apart slowly, Mary saw his eyes were lit up with joy, and filled with tears of happiness, where only a few minutes ago, they had been filled with tears of fear and grief.

"I'm going to be a father," he whispered. Then he laughed loudly and repeated it again, almost shouting, "I'm going to be a father!"

Mary laughed too, then put her hand over her mouth.

"Hush, darling, we'll wake the whole house," she said, still laughing.

"I don't care. I want to wake the house. I want everyone to know that my wife is carrying my child," Matthew said, although he did lower his voice a little.

"Not yet. I haven't told anyone yet. I wasn't going to tell you until I'd seen Dr Clarkson. I want to be sure before anyone else knows. And even if I was sure, I would want to keep it our secret for a little while."

"Are you not sure then?" he asked, alarmed, feeling a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

"I'm as sure as it is possible to be without seeing a doctor. And you felt it yourself. And when I've been ill and tired recently, well, this is why. Anna is sure too. She guessed before I did. And Edith guessed earlier, although she's sworn to secrecy. But still, I'd rather wait until we're home."

Matthew's smile returned and he stroked her hair gently.

"Whatever you want, my darling. How long have you been…?"

"Two months, I think. Maybe a little longer. But I didn't know until less than twenty-four hours ago. I suddenly realised when I was ill this morning. Or rather, yesterday morning. "

"You were ill again? Oh Mary, you should have told me. You shouldn't have gone on that stupid tour of the gardens, you should have stayed in bed," Matthew said.

"I'm going to be ill again tomorrow, I should think, and for days and possibly weeks after that, so I wouldn't start worrying about that. There's nothing wrong with me, Matthew, every woman goes through this when she's expecting. And I can't act differently or someone will guess."

"You must look after yourself though, and the baby, even if that means somebody guessing."

Mary smiled at how wonderful Matthew was being about this, and how concerned for her welfare. His nightmare seemed forgotten in the joy of the good news, and she wished she had something as wonderful to tell him every time he woke up after a bad dream.

"I love you Matthew."

"And I love you. So very much. And I love our child already. Now, you need your sleep. You must look after your health. I… I'm so sorry for waking you. I… it's just the thunder, I can't…"

"Hush, darling, I know, I know. It's perfectly alright, you have no reason to apologise. You lived through hell for four years, longer than we have been married. It's not your fault. But you're home and safe now, here with me. And our child." She frowned slightly. "You know, I really didn't mean to tell you yet. We have to face the possibility that I'm wrong. Although I don't think I am. I'm glad you know. It's been hard enough to keep it secret from you for the last day. I don't know how on earth I would have managed until we go home. But you're right, we both need to sleep. I think the storm has moved on, or ended now. I think you should turn over. You were in bed quite early. That's probably too long on your back already. Side?"

"Yes, alright. Facing you."

"Of course." Mary searched for pillows to support Matthew on his side, but there were only the ones for their heads. "We'll have to ask Anna to find us some more tomorrow," she said, half to herself. She helped Matthew roll onto his side and used the two pillows from her side of the bed to support him, then snuggled up close to him so she could share his pillows and feel his arms around her, holding her tightly and making her feel safe and protected and blissfully happy.

They fell asleep together and slept peacefully and undisturbed for the rest of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Sorry it's been longer than I intended since the last chapter, but I've been insanely busy. The next chapter will be finished as soon as possible, but I don't know when that will be.**_

 _ **Thank you for the lovely reviews for the last chapter. I really enjoyed writing it, and I'm glad you enjoyed reading it.**_

* * *

Matthew awoke before the bagpipes disturbed the perfect peace of the early morning. The curtains were closed, but it was a bright morning, and the sunlight lit up the room. There were birds singing outside, and there was no other sound but the steady, even rise and fall of Mary's breathing next to him.

Then he suddenly remembered what had happened last night. The nightmare and then… the best news he could ever have hoped for. He was to be a father. He was suddenly grinning, and if he hadn't been mindful not to wake his wife, he would have been laughing.

He watched her sleeping and felt such fierce love for her and for their unborn child, it almost frightened him. He hadn't known that love could come into existence so quickly. He imagined a miniature version of Mary, a little girl or boy with deep brown eyes and chocolate brown curls, and her laugh.

He could still hardly believe it was true. It seemed so sudden and so miraculous, after they had given up hope of having a child. But he knew it was true. His memories of last night were perfectly clear.

Then the bagpipes started. Mary groaned and turned over, trying her best to ignore the noise and sleep. But it was impossible, and she sighed and opened her eyes.

"I thought I told you to burn the bagpipes yesterday," she mumbled tiredly.

"Well, darling, if you're going to go on holiday to Scotland, you must expect bagpipes. And I couldn't possibly burn them, as I don't know where they're kept," Matthew replied, still smiling and feeling full of joy. Did Mary remember this early in the morning that their little miracle was growing inside her?

"Surely you can't be in a bad mood after yesterday, Mary?" he asked.

"Yesterday? What… Oh!" she cried, and she reached automatically for her stomach and laughed. "You know, I'd forgotten. It's all so new!"

Matthew kissed her on the lips and reached down to lay his hand on top of hers over the tiny bump that was their baby. He kept his hand there for a moment, then began to slowly move his hand further down, making Mary shiver with anticipation of the pleasure she knew he was going to give her.

But she stopped him and looked rather embarrassed.

"Sorry darling, I need to, erm, relieve myself," she said.

"I can wait," Matthew replied. Waiting for her was torture, but a very sweet torture.

Mary sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and began to rise. Suddenly, her head was swimming again and she sat down again.

"Mary?" Matthew said worriedly.

"I'm fine," she replied. "I blame you. It's your child doing this to me." Matthew laughed a little, but continued to watch her with concern. He sat up and leaned back on the pillows.

Mary took a deep breath and rose to her feet, forcing herself to stand straight. Then the nausea overwhelmed her, and knowing what was coming, she rushed to the bathroom.

"Mary?" Matthew called, knowing that she must be being sick. "Darling, do you want me to ring for Anna?"

"No," Mary called back, her voice a little shaky. "I'll be alright in a moment. Don't worry. At least we know why I'm ill now."

Unpleasant as it was to be ill like this, she found she didn't mind as much as she had done. Knowing that it was pregnancy that was doing this to her made all the difference. Every time she felt ill or faint and every day that passed without her monthly coming was further proof, and that she welcomed.

Knowing what was making Mary unwell didn't make Matthew worry any less though. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed and carefully got himself into his chair. He needed to go and hold Mary and comfort her while she was sick, as she always did when he was unwell. He was worried too, because of her faintness earlier, and he didn't want her to be alone. He went through to the bathroom, and found her leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Darling?" he said gently.

"I'll be alright in a moment," she said quietly

"Is there nothing that can be done? To make this better?" he asked, hating seeing her like this, whatever the reason.

Mary shook her head slowly. "Not really. Tea and dry toast for breakfast helps settle my stomach sometimes, but at the moment, I can't even contemplate eating."

Matthew held out his arms to her. "Come here." There was nothing else he could do for her, but he could do this.

Mary went to him, and sat on his lap with her head leaning on his shoulder. "I feel awful," she said, allowing herself to complain and feel some self-pity. "It's so stupid. I felt so happy a minute ago, and now… oh, I just want this to stop. I want to wake up feeling normal. And we're supposed to be enjoying ourselves on holiday. And it doesn't make sense because I _am_ so happy, and yet I feel like crying."

"Cry then," Matthew said simply. "If you want to, just cry. I'm here, and I love you, and I'll hold you until you feel better. You are allowed to feel ill, or tired, or fed up, or whatever else you feel. Nobody but me is here to see you."

Mary buried her face in his shoulder, and let a few tears escape, before pulling back, taking a deep breath and smiling weakly. "I'll be alright. I am alright."

"It will pass soon, won't it?" Matthew asked, hoping he was right. He was almost sure Edith's morning sickness had passed by now, so he knew it didn't go on forever.

"I don't know how long. It depends how far along I am, and I'm not entirely sure. But yes, it will pass. And that time can't come soon enough."

"Oh Mary," Matthew whispered softly. "I wish I could do it for you."

"No you don't." She laughed slightly. "I assure you, you don't."

They stayed silent for a minute, and Mary slowly became more confident that she wouldn't be sick again. The joy she had felt earlier that morning, and all of the day before began to return in full force, and she found herself smiling again.

Then she looked properly at Matthew and smirked. He wasn't wearing his pyjama shirt, and his muscular arms and chest were on full display.

Matthew noticed her looking at him and smirked back at her. It was a great relief to see her looking better. "I think we began something we didn't finish," he said.

"I believe we did. Do you _intend_ to finish it?" she asked, brushing his hair back from his forehead where it had flopped down over his eyes.

"If you're amenable to the idea," he said casually, although his heart was already beating faster.

"I am," she replied. "But… slowly. I don't want to ruin it by being sick again. I think I'm alright now, but…"

"Understood. To bed then, my love?"

"To bed," she agreed.

* * *

"Are you certain you're alright to go on the picnic?" Matthew asked for what must have been the twentieth time in the last half hour.

"Matthew, for goodness sake, I'm pregnant, not dying," Mary said, halfway between exasperation and amusement at Matthew's concern. "Now remember, you can't fuss like this when we're with everyone else. I refuse to let them even begin to guess before I've seen Clarkson."

"Alright, at your command, My Lady," Matthew teased. Although he didn't stop worrying, especially when Mary went very pale on the short car journey.

When they arrived at the loch though, and she got out of the car and breathed in the fresh air, Mary felt better. There was a slight breeze, but she wasn't cold, and it made her feel awake and alive. She had always loved this spot, and its proximity to the road meant that it was easy for Matthew to get there. Everything about it was perfect, and she felt indescribably happy.

Matthew gasped at the spectacular wild beauty of the loch and surrounding hills. The colours were incredible. The blue sky was reflected perfectly in the loch, the heather was in bloom in the hillsides, and there were all manner of wildflowers growing everywhere. It was exactly what he had pictured when he had imagined the Highlands, but far more beautiful than the image his imagination had conjured up.

Mary smiled. "I knew you'd love it. And you were the one saying you didn't want to come. I think our holiday is proving quite a success so far, don't you agree?"

"I do, as it happens. In fact, this is proving to be the best holiday of my life so far," Matthew replied.

Over by the water, Rose had picked what she considered to be the perfect spot for the picnic, and she was directing the footmen as to where to put the tables and chairs; they may be calling it a picnic, but there were no blankets on the floor on this outing. When the tables were arranged to her satisfaction, Rose began to direct them all as to where to sit, ensuring she and her mother were as far away from each other as possible. Even a bemused Violet didn't dare disobey her commands, so charmingly yet authoritatively were they uttered.

Susan, however was less impressed with her daughter's behaviour.

"Rose! Stop telling everyone what to do. I have my own plan for the seating arrangements."

Susan proceeded to instruct everyone that they were to move to where she wished them to sit.

"Susan dear," Violet said calmingly, "surely at an informal picnic such as this, it is not necessary for us to play musical chairs. Let us simply enjoy the scenery and the food."

Susan habitually obeyed her aunt, although the looks she was giving Rose boded ill for when they returned home later.

"And I thought my relationship with Mama was imperfect," Mary muttered in Matthew's ear as they watched Rose and Susan engage in a war of frowns and glares across the table.

Cora, desperate to break the tension, smiled across at Edith and Anthony.

"Have you two thought of any ideas for names for the baby yet?" she asked, thinking this was a safe subject.

"We like Alfred or Herbert for a boy, and Mabel or Agnes for a girl," Edith replied. "And if it's a boy, of course his second name will be Anthony."

"Yes, it's a tradition that I'm afraid I'm loath to break," Anthony said. "But for the sake of fairness, if it's a girl, her second name shall be Edith."

"They sound like lovely names, Edith," Susan said. She sighed heavily. "At least you are permitted a say in the naming of your child. Shrimpy decided upon the names of all of ours without consulting me."

There was a few seconds silence. Apparently, baby names was not a safe subject.

Mary looked at Matthew. "Honestly, Herbert? Mabel? And we have a footman named Alfred," she said disdainfully, keeping her voice low. Matthew looked at her reproachfully.

"Mary. It's their child, it's up to them what they name him or her. I promise faithfully I will not force the name of a footman on our child if it bothers you, and as it happens, I don't particularly care for those names either. But don't say anything to Edith."

Mary sighed and shook her head. "I won't. And Edith can name her poor children whatever she likes if it makes her happy. We have a truce at the moment, remember? We have managed not to argue for months now, are you not proud of me, darling?" She tried to forget their conversation last night, when Edith had all but accused her of having an affair. Matthew didn't need to know about that.

"Of course I am," Matthew replied, reaching for her hand under the table to emphasise his point. Mary squeezed his hand and they both looked at Mary's stomach, almost forgetting they were with other people. It was too soon for any change to be visible, but they knew their child was growing there, and it made them both smile.

Susan, who happened to be looking in their direction, noticed this. She looked hard at Mary, who was oblivious to the fact she was being observed, and wondered. Perhaps congratulations were in order for another of her cousin's daughters. There had been no announcement, but perhaps it was still very early days, and now she thought about it, she recognised several signs of early pregnancy in Mary: her tiredness yesterday, the way she had turned quite pale in the car, the way she and her husband were smiling. She would wait to ask Cora until she was more certain, but she suspected Robert would have two grandchildren arriving within a very short time of each other.

Oh, how pleasant it must be to have all one's daughters settled and happily married. She loved Rose dearly, but it would be a relief when she was married and she would no longer have to worry about her outrageous behaviour. It was true, she would not choose any of Robert's sons in law for a husband for Rose, but then, after the war, young, healthy, respectable men were scarce. Yes, it would be nice if Rose was someone else's responsibility.

She was in fact rather jealous of the way Cora seemed to get on with her daughters. She knew Sybil had always been rebellious, rather like Rose, and that she had married the former chauffeur, but really, it had turned out very well in the end. She was also jealous of Cora and her daughters' happy marriages. It seemed so unfair that Cora had married for duty, and yet had found love. And the girls had all married for love, apparently, and were still happy with their choices. And she, Susan, was stuck with a man she found irritated her more and more every day. She could hardly bear to be in the same room as him, and as for sleeping together… well, that had stopped before Rose's birth. Shrimpy had come intermittently for a few years to take his pleasure and leave, but in the last few years, he had stopped coming altogether. She suspected he found his satisfaction elsewhere, but she never asked; it was better not to know, she told herself, and she couldn't be sure.

She looked again at Mary and Matthew and saw their easy intimacy, which was apparent even though they were simply laughing and talking in a perfectly normal manner. It was the way they lit up when their eyes met, the way their hands always seemed to be touching… She and Shrimpy had had _something_ when they were first married. But never this. And now there was only bitterness and bickering.

Overall, the picnic was a success, and the only member of the party who didn't enjoy it was Susan.

They were back at the castle in time for tea, and when they were in the sitting room, Cora and Violet were once again seated with Susan, while Sybil, Mary, Matthew, Rose, Edith and Anthony sat together in a separate circle. Emmeline had been brought down and was sitting at Sybil's feet playing with a doll. She was more used to her new surroundings now, and was perfectly content, and quiet and calm enough for the adults to be able to have a normal conversation while she played.

Mary explained her plan for practising reeling for the ball, and Edith volunteered to play the piano for them. Rose thought it was an excellent idea and said she would join them, just for the chance to dance more.

"We can use the ballroom," she said excitedly. "Nobody is ever in there except for the ball, so we'll not be disturbed. So who is coming then?"

"My maid Anna and Matthew's valet William and his wife. Oh, and Tom of course." Mary replied.

"You will be wonderful, Mary, you're always the star of the ball," Rose said admiringly. She remembered her first Ghillies ball, when she had watched her older cousin dancing better than any of the Scottish Ladies who were supposed to be so good at reeling. "Are you going to dance, Edith?"

Edith gave her husband a stern look that told him not to dare to contradict her. "Yes, I shall, although I suppose I ought not to dance every dance. I feel wonderful now anyway; the morning sickness has gone and I'm not far enough along for it to be uncomfortable. I'm looking forward to it; I've never danced a reel with my husband." She smiled at Anthony.

Anthony looked at his lovely wife and wondered what on earth he had done to deserve her. She was so sweet and young and full of life, she made him forget his age and his arm, and live with her. And she was carrying his child. After all the years he and Maud had waited and hoped, then given up hoping, he was finally going to have a child.

One of the most wonderful things about Edith to him was that she didn't seem to mind his talking about Maud; in fact, she actively encouraged him, and he resolved to tell her later about his last Ghillies Ball with Maud.

"I am looking forward to it too, my sweet one," he said. "Although I think I may benefit from some instruction tomorrow; it has been rather a long time since I danced anything other than a waltz. But Edith, you must not overtire yourself."

"I'll be perfectly fine," Edith said, "won't I Sybil?"

"You will. Truly Anthony, at this stage in her pregnancy, it won't do her any harm to dance, if she feels fine."

Matthew could feel his mouth twitching up into a smile at this talk of pregnancy. Oh, he longed to tell everyone now. But Mary was right; they had to keep it secret for now. He tried to force his expression to a neutral one, but knew he was failing. How could he not be smiling when Mary was sitting next to him, carrying their child?

* * *

The next morning, Rose rounded everyone up for their secret dancing lesson, but when they were all there, Mary instantly took charge and was instructing everyone on what to do. Nobody dared to contradict anything she said, and she was enjoying it.

"No, to the _left,_ not the right," she said as William yet again forgot her instructions.

William looked sheepishly at Matthew, who was watching at the edge of the room, and burst out laughing at Matthew's smirk.

Matthew was enjoying watching this lesson very much. Mary may be a brilliant dancer, but what she was not was a patient teacher. She didn't get angry, and didn't criticise anyone unkindly, but she was becoming exasperated to the point that it was quite hilarious to watch her. She simply seemed unable to understand why anyone would find it difficult.

Since he couldn't dance, he had been given the task of looking after Bobby while Daisy dancing. This was another reason to enjoy the dancing lesson. To his delight, William had asked him to be Bobby's godfather, and he had found that he enjoyed the role very much. As soon as he had been asked, he had begun to think of all the things he would be able to do for the boy in the future; he meant to take his duty very seriously. Bobby's birth had come just when he and Mary had begun to lose hope of having a child of their own, and so it had meant a lot to him; he had thought a godson would be the only kind of son he would ever have.

Now, things were different, but instead of this making Bobby seem less important, it did the opposite. While Matthew had always enjoyed playing and spending time with his godson, now, he no longer felt that vague sadness he had felt before. Instead, he felt excitement.

He was also glad that he was giving Daisy the opportunity to dance, and he watched her progress, and that of the others, with interest.

To begin with, Daisy had been nervous as she always was with the family, but when she realised that she was in fact quite good at dancing, and was praised by Mary, she became more confident. Anna was learning slowly but surely, but William couldn't seem to concentrate. It was a combination of amusement at Mary's impatience and the fact that he found it hard to concentrate on himself when he was so drawn to watching Daisy.

Anthony found that it came back to him quite quickly, even without the use of one arm. He danced with Rose when partners were needed, while Edith played the piano, but he kept catching her eye and smiling in a way that told her he was looking forward to doing this with her.

Tom was finding it quite easy, as it was not too dissimilar to the Irish dances he had learned as a child and which were danced at every party. It was not as stiff and formal as he had feared it would be, and he was enjoying dancing with his wife, who was Mary's closest rival when it came to reeling. He was finding Mary's behaviour as funny as Matthew and William were, and even Sybil had to smother a laugh once or twice.

"Edith, start again," Mary instructed her sister. Edith dutifully began the piece again and as Mary called out the beats and the steps, everyone attempted the dance again. It was going well until Edith played a wrong note, and was so put off by it, she messed up the whole bar and couldn't get back into the music. She stopped.

"Edith, for goodness sake!" Mary said exasperatedly as the dancing stopped. "We were getting on alright that time."

Mary was tired and fed up. She had been looking forward to this dancing lesson, but now, after being at it for quite a while, she wanted to lie down and sleep. Edith was getting on her nerves, and she was feeling rather nauseous too, which she really had had enough of. Whoever called this morning sickness had clearly never been pregnant; it was certainly not restricted to mornings. It was probably a man who had come up with the name, she thought.

When they stopped for a few minutes to rest, Anna came over to her and said quietly, "Mi'lady? Perhaps you should rest for a while. We can carry on without you."

"No, Anna. I can't just leave, everyone will think it strange. It's still a secret, remember?" Mary said irritably, keeping her voice low.

"Well, perhaps we should continue tomorrow. You look rather pale."

Mary was going to argue, but the thought of resting was so appealing, she didn't. Besides, if Anna had noticed she was tired, Matthew must have done, or would do soon, and he would certainly force her to rest and tell her off for not looking after herself. And he would be right. However glad she was that she was pregnant, she hated what it was doing to her emotions and her body. She seemed to be fine one minute, then tired or ill or irritable the next.

"Shall we continue tomorrow?" she asked, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear. There were sounds of agreement, and Mary left the dancefloor and went to Matthew.

"I think I'm going to lie down for a while," she said when she reached him.

"What? Are you ill, or tired, or... Oh, I shouldn't have let you dance for so long. I'll come with you," Matthew said. "We can blame my back if anyone asks."

Mary smiled at him gratefully and after Bobby had been returned to his mother, they excused themselves and went to their room.

When she was lying down, Mary felt more relaxed, although the nausea didn't fade.

"Darling, I know you don't want anyone to guess yet, but you don't need to push yourself like that," Matthew said softly, stroking her hair soothingly.

"I'm fine," Mary insisted.

"You're not. You're tired, and ill, and-"

"I'm pregnant, Matthew. It's not a disease." She sighed and changed the subject. "Are you going golfing this afternoon?"

"Yes, but if you want me to stay with you, I can; it's not as if I'll be properly playing anyway."

"No, don't stay for my sake. I'll be fine. Edith's going to be embroidering blankets and clothes for her baby, and she'll be recruiting helpers. She'll end up with far more than one baby can possibly wear. I might join her."

Matthew snorted with laughter. "I'm not sure what everyone will think about that. You doing embroidery is rare enough, never mind for Edith's baby."

"Well, it won't be for Edith's baby, will it? And anyway, how will they know I'm not just being nice to Edith? As I reminded you yesterday, we haven't fought properly in months."

"That may be mainly because you don't see her very often. And things were getting rather strained between you earlier. Poor Edith, she only played a few wrong notes, and made far fewer mistakes than Rose did. And could you do any better?"

"Perhaps I couldn't, but I never practise. I've always sung, and Edith's always played. Anyway, it's not my fault, it's the baby, and Edith's," Mary insisted.

"You can't use the baby as an excuse for everything for the next few months, darling."

"I'm going to try," Mary said, and they both laughed. She yawned and closed her eyes.

"Sleep, darling," Matthew said softly, and he began to stroke her hair to help her fall asleep.

Mary relaxed at his touch, and fell asleep almost immediately.

Matthew didn't sleep, and simply lay there watching her, thinking about how unfair it was that women had to go through nine months of discomfort just because of something they had done with a man which took such a short amount of time. He wished he could share her precious burden.

* * *

As Matthew had predicted, everyone was rather shocked when Mary offered to embroider a blanket for Edith's baby. Cora would never have believed it if Mary weren't sitting there in front of her, contentedly sewing dainty little flowers in soft pastel shades. Susan added this to her evidence for Mary's pregnancy. She was beginning to suspect that Cora hadn't noticed her eldest daughter's condition, and wondered how she had failed to.

Mary was finding the embroidery relaxing and thought her mother's surprise was funny. She wasn't paying attention to the conversation, finding it rather tedious. She was lost in her own thoughts. She imagined her father's face when she announced her pregnancy, the shock and surprise and joy. And Isobel's face too. Isobel really had become like a second mother to her, and she smiled to herself when she saw in her mind's eye the tears of joy in her eyes when she found out she was going to have a grandchild.

She wondered how Matthew was getting on. It was such a shame he couldn't actually play, but at least he could be there and join in with the conversation. She knew her father wasn't great at golf, but that he enjoyed playing it all the same. And perhaps Matthew would be able to have a go. After all, he could play croquet, and had succeeded in teaching Tom cricket.

She wondered how Tom was doing. It must be so strange for him to be in holiday, living like a member of the aristocracy, shooting, golfing, fishing, when the life had led in Dublin was so different. Shrimpy treated him the same as he treated Matthew and Anthony, as if he had been born into the aristocracy, despite knowing he had been a chauffeur.

But then, Matthew hadn't been born into this life either. It was funny, she thought, how things had turned out. All their lives, she and her sisters had been told they would marry titled aristocrats. She had been promised to Patrick before she had even met any men, before she had even left the schoolroom. And now, after the war had changed everything, she was married to a lawyer, the son of a doctor, and Sybil was married to a former chauffeur. Edith's choice was perhaps more traditional, but before the war, there was no chance her parents would have permitted her to marry an old man with only one working arm, even if he was a baronet.

"Mary?"

Mary looked up with a start.

"Yes?" she said.

"You were miles away," Sybil said, smiling. "I was asking if you wanted to come with me and Rose. We're taking Emmeline out to see the fountain; she likes things like that."

"Yes, I will come. I'm sorry, I was just… thinking." She tidied her embroidery away and followed Sybil and Rose up to get Emmeline.

* * *

The men returned from their golfing in good spirits, and for the first time, the conversation over dinner flowed easily and without awkwardness.

"It seems your golfing skills have not improved since the last time, Robert," Shrimpy said.

"No," Robert replied, "and there's no use in me pretending otherwise when there were four witnesses. But then you took us there because you knew you would win, didn't you?"

Shrimpy laughed. "Am I that obvious?"

"Well, it does Robert good not to be the best sometimes," Violet said. Cora smirked, and Robert felt like a child. He changed the subject.

"How many are you expecting for the ball this year Shrimpy?"

"Oh, everyone will be there, the Grahams, the Mackenzies, the Gordons…" Rose said before her father had even opened his mouth. Susan was about to tell her daughter off, but Violet saw the danger and said,

"I haven't seen Charles Graham since 1907. I haven't even met his youngest grandson. Charlie, isn't it? Will they all be at the ball, or are Donald and Rosemary still in London?"

Rose suddenly blushed bright pink and looked down at her meal. Mary noticed, and began to suspect that Terrence Margadale had been replaced in Rose's affections by Charlie Graham. Well, at least this man was of good family and more importantly, was too young for him to be married, which gave him a distinct advantage over Mr Margadale. Mary was looking forward to meeting this young man.

"They're up here until October," Shrimpy replied, grateful to Violet for the interruption. He was really not in the mood for an argument after having such an enjoyable day. "I think they'll bring all the children. Although it's hardly fair to call them children when the youngest is Rose's age. How old is Charlie, Rose?"

"Nineteen. Twenty in November," Rose replied instantly, without having to think. Mary smiled to herself. Yes, Rose was definitely over Margadale.

"I can't wait," Sybil said. "It's been so long, and I used to look forward to it third after my birthday and Christmas when I was a child. It's a shame Emmeline is too young to enjoy it."

"Well, there's always next year, and the year after, and the year after that. You'll always be welcome, all of you," Rose said.

There was a few seconds silence, and Robert remembered what Shrimpy had hinted to him about the fact that there might not be many more Ghillies balls, or at least, not at Duneagle. Shrimpy had always been complacent when it came to managing his estate, and Robert had always known that Shrimpy had been in debt all his life without worrying about it. It seemed that it was catching up with him, and Robert was suddenly aware of how precarious this way of life was now.

He looked at Mary and Matthew and wondered what he would have done without them. If Matthew hadn't persuaded to take most of his money out of that Canadian railway investment, they would already have moved out of Downton Abbey. And if it hadn't been for his and Mary's efforts to change how the estate was run, they would all most likely be in the same situation as Shrimpy seemed to be now. Yes, he was so very fortunate.

* * *

"Rose is definitely over that Terrence Margadale," Mary said to Matthew as she finished plaiting her hair and went to him on the bed. He held his arms open to her and she lay back in them.

"How do you know?" Matthew asked.

"She's clearly got a crush on Charlie Graham. Did you see her face when his name was mentioned?"

"No. I was sitting on the same side of the table as her. Well, I don't know the man, but at least she's not still being seduced by a married man. We don't have to worry that we did the wrong thing in keeping her secret."

"It would have been cruel to tell on her. Especially considering the way Susan treats her. You know, it makes me appreciate Mama."

"Good. And I think you deserve the credit for persuading Rose to leave Margadale alone. I think she was rather struck by your description of love."

Mary smiled. "Well, you are the reason I know about love, so you deserve some credit. I would never have loved anyone if it hadn't been for you. I would have married some wealthy Lord and given him heirs, and I would probably have ended up like Susan. I only told Rose the truth. I love you so much Matthew."

Matthew looked at her, and was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

"Mary?" he asked gently, holding her close and wondering why she was so emotional. They were only talking about Rose.

"I'm sorry. It's the baby, you know I don't normally behave like this. But I just love you so much Matthew," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek even as she smiled and laughed at herself for being so silly. "It's Susan and Shrimpy, you see. They're so unhappy, and they make it difficult for Rose, all because they didn't marry for love, and weren't fortunate enough to find it later. And it could have been me. I was prepared to marry without love. It's too horrible to think about."

"But it _isn't_ you. We have each other, and we'll never end up like the Flintshires. Now, let me cheer you up," Matthew said. He released Mary from his arms and began to kiss her body. He began with her breasts, wondering if it was possible that they were already slightly larger than before. He was looking forward to the changes pregnancy was going to bring to her body. Then he moved down to the tiny swell of her stomach, imagining the tiny new life growing inside her. His child. Their child. Their miracle. He moved down again, and looked up at her to see if the tears were gone. They were. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling.

"Please don't stop Matthew," she whispered, and he moved further down again, kissing her where she wanted him the most.

After, she did the same for him, kissing all the places she knew he was most sensitive. They settled to sleep with their hands resting on her stomach.


	5. Chapter 5

The days passed quickly. Robert and Shrimpy went out deerstalking almost every day, sometimes joined by Tom, sometimes by neighbours, and sometimes alone. There were more picnics, including the picnic without the older generation that Rose had been so looking forward to. It didn't please her quite as much as the picnic at Downton the summer before, however, as Anthony wouldn't let Edith sit on the ground in her condition, meaning that they had to enlist the help of the footmen to carry chairs and a table, which according to Rose, ruined the whole idea. Nor was she overly pleased when Emmeline decided it would be more fun to throw her food at her cousin than to eat it, with the consequence that Rose's pale pink dress ended up badly stained. Once she had consumed enough champagne, however, Rose's mood improved, and the outing was, in the end, a success.

At Shrimpy's suggestion, Matthew, Tom and Anthony spent a day fishing, taking William with them. Anthony had long ago become accustomed to the fact that the Crawley family treated their servants differently from the way most aristocratic families did, so he wasn't overly surprised when he realised that William was there as a friend more than as a servant, and he made an effort to be friendly to the younger man.

Despite the fact Matthew and Anthony spent much of the day worrying about leaving their pregnant wives alone, they all enjoyed their trip. Matthew began to realise that Mary had been right; he couldn't go deerstalking, but there was plenty to do, and this was turning out to be the best holiday he could remember.

Other than that outing, Mary and Matthew were almost never apart. Matthew couldn't bear to let her out of his sight, terrified something would happen to her, and Mary was finding that the myth she had heard about women feeling more desire for their husbands than usual when they were pregnant was true. They spent so many afternoons 'resting' together in bed, Sybil began to worry and kept asking Matthew if his back was alright. Every time this happened, they would have to try very hard not to laugh. Edith thought Mary was having a hard time with her pregnancy, and offered sympathy and kindly-meant advice, which Mary found as hilarious as Sybil's concern for Matthew.

Susan had also noticed how much time Mary was spending resting, and she was becoming more certain by the day that Mary was pregnant. She hadn't been certain that Mary's husband would be able to father a child, remembering certain whispers and rumours she had heard, but she could think of no other explanation for Mary's behaviour and symptoms. Perhaps the rumours and whispers she had heard were wrong. Or perhaps, she thought, Mary had looked outside her marriage bed for a father for the heir that was so desperately needed. It seemed like just the sort of thing Mary might do, as she had never been one to do what was expected and she had never been a demure, well-behaved young Lady. Then there was that gossip about the Turkish diplomat all those years ago…

Surely Cora must know, Susan told herself. But Cora showed no signs of noticing, which made it seem more likely that it was believed to be impossible. Susan decided to wait, observe, and use her information at the most opportune time.

It was soon the day of the Ghillies ball. Mary stayed in bed late, then rested in the afternoon in the hope that she would have enough energy for the ball, and more importantly, to convince Matthew that she would have enough energy for the ball. She was determined to stay until the end, and she refused to let pregnancy stop her. Thankfully, she was feeling much better that day, and she was hopeful that she would be fine. Besides looking forward to dancing herself, she was excited to see Anna, William and Daisy dance too, and Tom of course.

She dressed carefully for the ball. She had had a new dress made especially for the occasion. It was a light blue colour, and she had chosen the material because she thought it matched Matthew's eyes. It was different from her usual range of dark reds and purples and blues, but it suited her happy mood. It was rather modern in style, with a low waist, a low neckline and a fairly short skirt. It made her feel young and beautiful, without it looking like she was dressed in clothes that were too young for her. She knew the skirt would swirl out around her when she twirled in the dance, and she couldn't wait.

She had dressed early, so that Anna would have time to get ready herself, and she sat down at her dressing table and stared at herself in the mirror while she waited for Matthew. She studied her reflection. It had been so many years since her last Ghillies ball, and she felt like a different person altogether. Then, she had been young and so naïve. It had been after Pamuk, but still, she had not learned her lesson, and she been an awful flirt. She and her sisters had all been unmarried, and her parents had been flinging every bachelor in the room at them. Had she loved Matthew then? She couldn't remember. Yes, she thought she had, although in her ignorance and childishness, she hadn't realised it. Then, she had danced every dance, every man in the room wanting to be her partner. It had thrilled her, to be the centre of attention like that, to know that she was the most beautiful young woman there and the best dancer.

Now, she was different. The only eyes she needed on her were Matthew's. She was older and far more mature. The war that had finally made her grow up, and Matthew had changed her and made her a better person, and a happier one. She could see in the mirror that she was older, but she no longer wished to be a girl. She wasn't a girl anymore, but a woman, a wife. And soon, a mother.

She placed her hands on her stomach again and smiled. Then she heard the door open behind her and saw Matthew coming towards her in the mirror. She didn't turn, but waited until he reached out and stroked her neck tenderly. She shivered with pleasure at his touch and turned to look at him.

"You look handsome, my darling," she said. "I see Shrimpy didn't manage to persuade you to wear a kilt. He tries with Papa every year, and he's not succeeded yet. I thought he might try with you, Tom and Anthony." She smiled at the idea of Matthew in a kilt; he was just so English, it was hard to imagine. Although Rose had told her when they were younger that men didn't wear anything underneath them…

"Let me see your dress properly then," Matthew said, bringing Mary back from her imaginings. She rose from the stool and gave him a twirl so he could admire the way the dress swirled out around her. Matthew stared, thinking she looked more beautiful than ever, although in truth, he always seemed to think that when he looked at her.

"Come here," he said, opening his arms to her. She sat down carefully on his lap, trying not to crease her dress. Her care seemed rather wasted though, as Matthew pulled her close to kiss her. She couldn't resist the kiss, but when she drew away, she gave him a stern look.

"You'll make me untidy."

"Good," Matthew replied, grinning. Then he kissed her again before she could complain. Mary was in too good a mood to object; who cared about her dress anyway, now that the one person who mattered had seen it at its best?

When they slowly drew away, they sat looking at each other in contented silence for a minute.

"Are you really going to dance with Anna?" Matthew asked after a while.

"Yes, I think I will. It will be worth it just for the looks we'll get. I wish we had a camera to capture Granny's expression."

"You will be watched and admired whoever you dance with. But darling, don't tire yourself out; there's two of you to look after now."

"I spent practically the whole day in bed. I'll be fine." Mary resisted the temptation to roll her eyes, but only just. "We ought to go now, or we'll miss the opening dance." She stood up, inspecting her dress for creases and smiled when she saw it looked as it had when she had put it on. Then she led the way to the ballroom, from where they could hear the music coming. Mary felt her excitement mounting as they approached and knew she was smiling.

Most of the guests had arrived, and the musicians were warming up, ready to play for the dancing. Mary and Matthew made their way to the end of a row of chairs at the edge of the room, and Mary sat down.

It wasn't long before the musicians stopped their tuning and warming up and began to play. Instantly, the dancefloor filled up with eager couples, including Rose, who was on the arm of a handsome young man whom Mary assumed was Charlie Graham. Rose was wearing a dress in a similar modern style to Mary's, but with a lower neckline and shorter hem **.** She was smiling and laughing, but something in her eyes made Mary guess that she'd had another argument with Susan. About the dress, most likely.

Mary and Matthew sat together, talking and laughing almost as if they were alone. Mary was waiting for the dance she had taught Anna so they could shock everyone. As always seemed to happen now they knew of Mary's pregnancy, the conversation drifted to the subject of the baby.

"Are you sure we can't tell everyone yet?" Matthew asked. "I can't wait to see Robert's face. And it seems so silly to have to be so secretive about something so wonderful."

"I'm sure. I want to see Dr Clarkson before we say anything to anyone. Besides, it would be wrong to tell the family now, when your mother isn't here; she would have to wait to hear later than everyone else, or be told over the telephone, and I don't think this is the sort of news that should be communicated in that way. We're more than halfway through our stay here. We can wait, can't we?"

Matthew reached out and tenderly brushed an escaped curl at the nape of Mary's neck back, making her shiver slightly and sigh happily.

"Of course you're right. But it is so typical that you realise you're pregnant at the only time in the past year or so that you can't see the doctor for days. Why is nothing ever easy for us?" Matthew said.

"I don't think asking questions like that will get us anywhere," Mary replied. "But I promise you, loving you is certainly very easy indeed."

Across the room from them, Susan was sitting with Cora. She was in a bad temper from her argument with Rose about her dress, and Cora was feeling awkward, not knowing what to say. She knew very well the anxiety daughters could unwittingly cause their mothers, and yet she thought that compared to Susan, she had had it quite easy. Rose was just so modern and so wild, and Susan was so traditional. Thank goodness all three of her daughters were happily settled now. They were not the husbands she would have chosen for her girls before the war, but things were different now, and at least they were all happy. And with Edith finally expecting a child, everything seemed to have worked out so well. Susan still had many years of worry ahead of her, in all likelihood.

Susan, as a means of distracting herself from her troubles and worries, was watching Mary and Matthew again. They were leaning in very close to each other and smiling secret smiles to each other. She saw Matthew rest his hand briefly on Mary's stomach, and decided it was finally time to find out if her suspicions were correct. She had had enough of watching Cora and her girls getting on in perfect harmony, while she argued constantly with Rose. It might be interesting to see how Cora would respond to this information.

"You are to be congratulated again, are you not?" she said.

Cora looked at her in mild confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Yet another grandchild on the way."

Cora frowned. The congratulations on Edith's pregnancy had already been said, and now seemed like a strange time to bring it up again. And 'yet another grandchild'? What did that mean?

"Thank you. And yes," she began hesitantly, "it certainly is wonderful news. Edith and Anthony had all but given up hope."

Susan tried to guess whether Cora was deliberately misunderstanding her. Surely she would have noticed her own daughter's condition? Unless the rumours were true, and it was impossible for Mary to be pregnant with her husband's child. Susan smiled to herself.

"No, I don't mean Edith. Is it supposed to be a secret, or did you not know?"

"You mean…?" Cora looked around for Sybil, and saw her sitting with Tom, Edith and Anthony. She hadn't noticed any change in Sybil, but perhaps she just hadn't been paying enough attention.

"Sybil hasn't said anything. Why do you think… has she said anything?" Cora worried that Sybil might have told someone else before her. That thought hurt, and it was odd, as Susan seemed like the last person someone would go to with such news.

"I don't mean Sybil either, Cora. You really haven't noticed, have you? I'm talking about Mary," Susan said, almost gleefully.

Cora almost dropped her glass. She stared at Susan, not bothering to hide her astonishment. "You mean… you think _Mary_ 's pregnant?"

"Cora, have you been watching her these past few days? She looks tired half the time, and she's spent most afternoons in bed. She eats lots at some meals and barely touches others, and yet she looks perfectly happy. And more than anything, have you really not noticed how often her hand is resting on her stomach?"

Cora looked across the room at Mary and Matthew, and saw that at that very moment, Mary's hands were indeed resting on her stomach. She thought of her eldest daughter's behaviour in the last few days, and suddenly everything made sense: the afternoons when Mary and Matthew had gone to lie down, which Cora had simply assumed was because of Matthew needing to rest; the mornings when Mary had looked sick and tired and had completely avoided coffee. She felt suddenly sick herself.

"Cora?" Susan asked, feigning concern. "I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't have said anything. Of course you would have preferred to hear it from Mary. But all the same, congratulations."

Cora took a deep breath. She needed to think fast.

"Thank you, Susan," she said sweetly. "But please, don't mention this to anyone. If Mary hasn't said anything, it must be because she doesn't want us to know yet." Susan nodded and smiled. Cora looked across the room again at her eldest daughter, and sighed. _Oh Mary, what have you done?_

Mary and Matthew, oblivious to the conversation about them which had been taking place across the room, were torn away from their private conversation by the change in the music. It was the dance Mary had taught her pupils over the past few days. She stood up and caught Anna's eye, then looked around for the others. They all stood and made their way to the dancefloor.

Daisy looked frightened, as if at any moment, someone would come and tell her she didn't belong here, and she was clinging to William's arm. But despite this, she looked lovely. Anna had done her hair for her, and she had a new dress, a gift from her father-in-law.

Tom and Sybil went up, both of them grinning. Anna went to Mary's side.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked.

"I'm sure," Mary said assertively. "Now where is Bates? We don't want him to miss you dancing."

She looked around and saw Bates sitting next to Matthew, both of them watching their wives. Matthew was smiling proudly, clearly looking forward to the dance. Bates was looking at Anna in confusion.

The dance started and Mary and Anna took their places with the rest of the dancers, Mary, as the tallest, taking the part of the man. She laughed at the looks she was getting from the men next to her. They obviously thought she didn't understand the dance and was confused. Oh, she would show them! She was the best dancer there, and she would make them stare for a different reason by the time she had finished.

Sybil and Tom danced well, but rather more wildly and energetically than the rest of the dancers. Daisy and William were excellent, once Daisy had conquered her nerves and the steps came back to her easily. Mary and Anna attracted the attention of almost everyone who was watching from the edges of the room, and of several of the dancers. Not only was this two women dancing together, but a Lady, the future Countess of Grantham no less, and her maid. And they were the most elegant dancers in the room, each of Mary's steps perfect and Anna's almost so.

Bates looked at Matthew with laughter in his eyes.

"Did you know about this, sir?" he asked.

"I did. They're marvellous, aren't they?"

"They are," Bates replied, his heart too full of love for his perfect wife to say more. She would never cease to amaze him. After all they had been through to be together, he could not believe his luck that they were together now. Of course, he would have liked to be able to dance with her now, but watching her was magical all the same; the way she was laughing, the way her feet kept in time with the music, the way she kept glancing at him, her eyes full of joy and love.

Robert was sitting with his mother and Shrimpy. They were all unable to take their eyes off the dancers, Sybil and Tom the most energetic, and Mary and Anna… well, they were certainly an unusual pair.

"That's… Mary's maid, isn't it?" Shrimpy asked.

"Yes. Anna. She's married to my valet," was all Robert could manage in reply. He would have been shocked, but he had long ago given up trying to predict or understand his daughters' behaviour. And Mary had always liked being the centre of attention. He looked across the room to where Bates and Matthew were sitting, and smiled when he saw their eyes fixed on their wives.

"I didn't know Anna could reel," Violet said after a while. Of course, she disapproved in theory of her granddaughter dancing with her maid, but Mary looked so happy, she could not make herself disapprove of it. She had been worried about her favourite granddaughter these past few days and weeks. Mary had been looking tired, and Violet had wondered if all the work she was doing on the estate was too much for her. Now though, Mary looked well and full of life and energy.

When that dance finished, Mary was beset by men asking her to dance with them. It was exactly like the balls of the years before the war, and Mary danced almost every dance. Matthew enjoyed watching her, and was not short of people to talk to. He could see Mary's joy, and this made him happy too.

When Mary finally came to sit down, she was exhausted, but in a good way. She was so happy. She had danced with most of the men in the room, and knew she had done it well. She was soon going to go to bed and spend the night in Matthew's arms. And she was carrying his child. Nothing could be better.

"I see you're enjoying the ball as much as you thought you would," Matthew said, smiling and reaching out to hold her hand.

"Every bit as much," she replied happily. "But I must say I'm rather tired. I think we may have to retire soon, despite my resolution to stay until the end."

From the look in her eyes, Matthew guessed that despite her tiredness, she did not wish to retire early to sleep. No, she clearly had other plans, plans he knew he would entirely approve of.

"You know, I was thinking the same thing myself," he said, smiling in anticipation.

Mary rose from her chair and they made their way towards the door. They stopped when they reached where Susan and Cora were sitting to make their excuses to the hostess. Susan smiled at them, one of the very few seemingly genuine smiles they had seen on her face, and they said goodnight.

But as they were leaving, Cora stopped them.

"Mary dear, I would like a word with you about something. Could you come to my room in five minutes or so?"

Mary reluctantly agreed, but wondered what on earth her mother could want to talk to her about so urgently that it must be said tonight, after a ball and when it was clear that she wanted to go to bed.

She went back to her room with Matthew and helped him onto the bed.

"Typical Mama, asking me to go to her room when there are so many things I would rather be doing," she said with a sigh, taking Matthew's shoes and socks off for him.

"She had better not keep you for long," he said, smiling at her in a way that made it very difficult to know she had to leave in a minute.

"Don't worry darling, nothing could keep me from you for long," she replied, leaning over to kiss him. "But I really ought to go now, I suppose."

She stood up and smoothed down her dress, then looked down at him. "You're sure you can manage?" she asked, gesturing to his pyjamas. She knew he would be able to change into them on his own, but it would take time and effort, and it was late.

"I'll be fine," he assured her.

"I don't know how long I'll be; I've no idea what Mama wants to talk about. But if you're asleep when I return, be warned, I'm going to wake you up." She kissed him again, then went upstairs to Cora's bedroom.

Cora was sitting in an armchair by the fire which was burning in the hearth. She looked troubled, but smiled at Mary when she walked in. Mary sat opposite her in another armchair.

"Mama? Is something wrong?"

Cora sighed. She didn't know how she was going to approach this. She wanted Mary to trust her, to tell her the truth, but she didn't know how to make that happen.

"Mary darling. You enjoyed the ball, didn't you?" she began awkwardly, trying to make Mary relax.

"Yes. I hope you weren't too shocked at my choice of partner for my first dance of the evening."

"Well, perhaps I would have been if you weren't so good. But nobody seems to mind unusual behaviour if you're a beautiful married woman. Your grandmother may have something to say about it tomorrow though."

Mary laughed, then stopped and looked seriously at her mother.

"You didn't summon me here to discuss the ball, did you Mama; that could have waited until tomorrow. You are worried about something."

Cora frowned. She knew she was not going about this in quite the right way, but then, she wasn't sure there was a 'right way' to have the conversation she was about to have.

"Mary. I hope you know that I love you very much, and that I will always love you, whatever happens. Your happiness is very important to me, and I hope you feel that you can always trust me and rely on me," she said, watching Mary's expression carefully.

"Of course I know that, Mama. Is something wrong? Please tell me," Mary said, becoming more and more worried. It wasn't often Mama spoke to her as openly and emotionally as this, and she had a horrible feeling her mother was about to tell her something awful.

"I'm glad you trust me Mary. Now, is there something you need to tell me?" Cora asked gently.

Mary looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean? I thought you had something to tell me."

"I promise I will support you Mary, whatever the circumstances are, but please, tell me the truth."

"Mama, I'm sorry, but I have no idea whatsoever what you are talking about. The truth about what?"

"The truth about why you have been so ill and tired recently."

Mary gasped and her hands went immediately to her stomach, and Cora knew Susan had been right. _Oh my darling girl!_ she thought, _what have you done?_

"Mary, you must tell me, or I can't help you. Does Matthew know?"

Mary looked at her in confusion. "Help me? I don't need help. I suppose you must have guessed that… that I'm pregnant. I've been trying to keep it secret until I'd seen a doctor, but I suppose my body has given me away. Oh Mama, I don't need _help_! Why would I? I am so very happy! And yes, Matthew knows," Mary said, the joy and excitement mounting in her voice as she spoke.

Cora looked at her daughter's smiling face and felt like crying. Mary was still so young, so naïve. How on earth did she think this was going to work?

"Mary?" she said slowly. "Was it deliberate, for an heir, or was it… a mistake made in love?"

Mary didn't understand Cora's behaviour at all. Why was she not happy?

"Why would it be a mistake? Of course we want a child, and an heir for Downton. Is it not wonderful news?"

"How long has it been going on, Mary? When did you decide to do this? And… who is he Mary?" Cora asked.

"Who is who?" Mary asked, more confused than ever.

"The father, Mary. You can trust me Mary, I am on your side."

"On my side? Why are there sides? Matthew is the father of course!" Mary's heart began to beat faster as a thought occurred to her. She hoped it was some misunderstanding, because surely her own mother wouldn't think…

Cora buried her face in her hands. Mary really had no idea what a mess she had got herself into, and she seemed determined to pretend, even to her own mother. She had feared something of this nature would occur. Mary loved Matthew, but every woman had certain… needs. And she supposed Matthew must be desperate to provide an heir.

"Oh Mary. You can be honest with me, I will not judge you. It is entirely understandable, but you must see, it's not as simple as you think it is."

Suddenly, Mary knew for certain what her mother meant, and was horrified. Mama, like Edith, thought she had had an affair with another man in order to become pregnant. Her own mother thought this of her! She knew that they had put themselves in a difficult position, but she had assumed that her own mother would believe her, even if few other people did. Edith was more understandable; they were both predisposed to assume the worst of each other. But Mama?

"You are wrong, Mama. It is every bit as simple as I think it is. I am carrying my husband's child. I'm sorry we didn't tell you it was possible before, but we didn't want to raise anyone's hopes."

Cora felt desperately sorry for her daughter. She knew so little of the world.

"Mary, listen to me. You have to tell me the truth. We are going to have to act quickly. You are living in a dream world, both you and Matthew, and you need to realise that the real world is not as forgiving as you imagine it to be. It is well known that Matthew can't father children. Darling, nobody is going to believe your story. I understand why you have done it, truly I do. I know what it is to feel the pressure to provide an heir, and I know that longing for a child. But it will not be easy to sort this mess out, and as I said, we must act now."

Mary had felt the anger rising in her chest throughout he mother's speech, and now she was livid.

"How dare you suggest I have been unfaithful to my husband? How dare you doubt my word! I am telling the truth. My child is legitimate and it is Matthew's. We have known for a while that it is possible for him to… well, we had given up hope, when I suddenly realised a few days ago. I'm telling the truth, Mama!" she said. She was struggling to prevent herself from shouting; this was not a conversation she wanted to be overheard.

Cora looked at Mary sadly. She didn't know what else she could say. Mary had always been so stubborn and strong-willed. She felt such deep sympathy and love for her daughter, who was trapped in an impossible situation, and was clearly unaware of quite how serious a matter it was.

"What are you going to tell people?" Cora asked quietly.

"The truth!" Mary shot back. She rose. "I will not stay here and listen to this from my own mother! You have no faith in my loyalty or my word. But I am no liar, Mama. When we return home, we shall tell everyone the truth: that I am pregnant with Matthew's child. Until then, is it too much to ask that you hold your tongue?"

"I will keep your secret. As I said, I am on your side, I will always be on your side. But you simply cannot continue to ignore the problems you will face. I will be here when you are ready to talk. Goodnight, my darling girl. And look after yourself."

Mary stormed out of the room and ran downstairs. She almost collided with Sybil, who was going upstairs to check on Emmeline.

"Mary?" she asked, concerned. "Are you alright?"

Mary blinked and took a deep breath to calm herself.

"Fine. I'm perfectly fine, thank you Sybil. Did you enjoy the ball?"

Sybil stared at her, bewildered. Mary looked as if she were about to cry, and yet she was asking such an ordinary question.

"Yes, the ball was wonderful. But Mary, what's wrong? What were you doing upstairs?"

"I was talking to Mama," Mary replied after a pause. "Goodnight Sybil."

Sybil watched as her elder sister walked slowly down the stairs, clutching the bannister so tightly, her knuckles turned white. Whatever conversation she had had with Mama had clearly not ended well. She considered calling after her, but decided against it; Matthew would there for Mary, whatever her troubles were.

Mary was in tears by the time she reached the bedroom. Matthew was lying on top of the covers, naked, reading while he waited for her return. He looked up with a smile when he heard her come in, his expression quickly changing to a look of concern when he saw the state Mary was in.

"Mary? What's happened? Come here," he said, opening his arms to her. She went over to him and buried her face in his shoulder, her body shaking with sobs. Matthew knew better than to press for an answer, and simply held her until she was able to speak.

"Mama knows, Matthew," she said through her tears.

"Knows what?"

"About the baby. She guessed."

Matthew frowned. "Well, it's not ideal, but surely…" he began, but Mary interrupted.

"She doesn't believe me. She thinks… she thinks it's somebody else's."

Matthew stared at her for a minute, uncomprehending. Then he understood.

"You mean… she thinks you… with another man?" he managed.

Mary nodded. "What if everyone is like this? If my own mother doesn't trust my word, who will? How could she think that I would do that? She doesn't know me at all," she said hopelessly.

Matthew held her tighter. "It will be alright, darling. It's just been a shock to her. Perhaps we should have told them months ago that there was a possibility… but it's too late now. No, it will be fine. Robert, Cousin Violet, Mother, Sybil, nobody else will doubt our word."

Mary decided not to mention Edith's initial reaction, as she had already forgiven her sister, and she wanted to pretend that that conversation simply hadn't taken place. Edith believed her now, and that was what mattered.

"No. No, you're right of course. But Mama doesn't trust my word, Matthew, and I cannot forgive her for that. She believes I would sleep with a man who was not my husband solely for the purpose of having a child. She believes I am an unfaithful wife and a liar."

Mary had stopped crying, and her face now wore a blank, lost expression. She shivered, suddenly cold.

"Come on, we should get under the covers; you're cold," Matthew said tenderly. Without speaking, Mary pulled back the sheets and got under them. Matthew did the same, with a little more difficulty. Mary lay back, staring up at the ceiling.

"Come here," Matthew said, and after a moment, she curled up next to him, taking comfort in his presence. "I promise everything will be alright. It doesn't matter what anyone thinks, you are carrying our child, and it is the most wonderful, miraculous news. Don't worry about Cora now. Just relax and go to sleep. I love you so much, my darling."

Matthew continued to murmur comfortingly to her until exhaustion overtook her and she fell asleep in his arms. Then he looked up at the ceiling in the dark, and hoped desperately that his reassuring words to Mary would turn out to be true. They should have foreseen this consequence of keeping their secret, but he hoped he was right that once they explained everything, they would be believed, and everything would be alright.


	6. Chapter 6

After their argument on the night of the ball, Mary and Cora barely spoke to each other. Cora tried to talk to Mary alone and coax the truth out of her, but Mary refused to say anything to her beyond what was absolutely necessary. The tension between them was impossible to ignore, but apart from Matthew and Susan, the family were baffled as to the cause of it. Robert asked his wife repeatedly what had happened, but true to her word, she kept Mary's secret.

Susan guessed it must be related to what she had told Cora about Mary's pregnancy. To begin with, she enjoyed this. She liked that she had been the first one to notice, and after spending a week feeling jealous of Cora and her relationship with her daughters, she felt a perverse pleasure in watching Mary and her mother behaving with each other as she did with Rose.

After a day or so though, she began to wonder. It began to dawn on her that this wasn't just some disagreement between mother and daughter, some petty argument about childish rebellions; this was about something bigger than that. This wasn't going to go away, she realised. If Mary was pregnant, it was a problem that would not simply disappear. If the child was her husband's, by some miracle, then Mary would find it very difficult to ever forgive Cora. And if the child was another man's, then everything was suddenly very complicated indeed. She had interfered with something she didn't really understand, and now it was out of her control.

The days passed. Robert and Shrimpy continued to enjoy their deerstalking, especially as the tension in the house slowly became unbearable with the additional disagreement between Mary and Cora, on top of the mess that was the familial relationships of the Flintshires. Tom, however, preferred to stay with Sybil and Emmeline. It was not often that they had the luxury of a holiday, and he saw so little of his wife and child when he and Sybil were both working.

Mary was desperate to go home so she could see Dr Clarkson and have her pregnancy confirmed so she could tell the family. She also wanted to speak to Isobel, the only other person who would know for certain that she was telling the truth. Each day seemed to pass ridiculously slowly. She had been enjoying the holiday, but now, she could only enjoy the times when she wasn't in her mother's presence.

Despite this, she was sad when the day of their departure came; Duneagle was beautiful, and it held so many happy memories for her. It had been difficult with the tension between Susan, Rose and Shrimpy, and now her own problems with Mama, but even so, it had been an enjoyable holiday. And from what her father had told Matthew, it did not seem likely that they would be able to come here for many more years; Duneagle was going to have to be sold. She couldn't imagine how awful it would be if they were in the same situation; losing Downton was too awful to bear thinking about. And if Matthew hadn't made Papa change his investments and begin to change the way the estate was run, perhaps they would be in the same situation.

But she didn't need to think of what might have happened. Downton was safe. The fate of Duneagle was sad, but there was nothing she could do about it, so that wasn't worth worrying about either. She had enough problems of her own.

The Crawleys said their goodbyes and thanked their hosts, and got into the waiting cars. Rose looked heartbroken and bereft at their departure. She stood at the top of the steps and watched the cars leave, and felt her eyes filling with tears. She enjoyed seeing her cousins so much. Her parents argued less, and her mother shouted less. And there was always someone to talk to. When she was here alone with her parents, there was nobody her age to talk to except servants, and if she tried to talk to them, her mother would give her a lecture on letting the servants know their proper place and letting them get on with their work.

Her mother should try telling that to Mary. Rose remembered her cousin dancing with her maid at the Ghillies ball. Nobody had said anything to Mary about it, but Rose was not even allowed to talk to the maids for company when there was nobody else about. Somehow, Mary could do anything she wanted without upsetting anyone. Rose wished she could be like that, so poised and elegant and grown up that nobody dared to criticise her.

The cars disappeared behind the trees and Rose stood staring for a few seconds before following her parents back into the house.

* * *

On the train, Mary and Matthew were sharing a compartment with Cora, Robert and Violet again. Mary was still refusing to speak properly to her mother, and they all knew that this was likely to be a rather tense journey.

Robert read his newspaper, holding it up in front of his face, much higher than he would usually have held it, ignoring everyone and everything else. Cora and Violet talked about various charities they were involved in. Mary thought the journey might be easier if she closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep. She rested her head on Matthew's shoulder and relaxed, trying to think of happy things in order to keep her mind off her argument with her mother. But she was tired, as she always seemed to be at the moment, and although she had only intended to pretend to sleep, she was warm and comfortable with Matthew's arm around her, and she fell asleep. Matthew smiled, glad that she was resting. She needed to look after herself now, and he knew she was not very good at resting, or at doing what she was told.

He spent most of the journey reading. It was awkward with Mary leaning on his shoulder, and with one of his arms around her, but having her close made it worth it.

Eventually though, he had to give up on his book; he was too excited to concentrate. They would be home soon. Tomorrow, Mary was going to see Dr Clarkson, and then they could tell everyone the wonderful news. Mary had been understandably subdued by Cora's reaction, but Matthew was sure that nobody else would assume the worst as she had. Mother and Dr Clarkson knew, and everyone else would trust them, even if they couldn't trust him and Mary.

It was strange sitting there on the train, knowing that Mary was carrying his child (or at least, almost knowing) and knowing that Cora believed it wasn't his. He had caught her giving him strange looks over the past few days, pitying him probably. Now she was ignoring him entirely, which was definitely preferable. Well, she would see tomorrow. They would announce their news, and everyone else would believe them, and everything would be alright.

He was brought back to the present when he felt a sharp pain in his back as his muscles suddenly tightened, and he had to try very hard not to make a sound. He guessed instantly what it was, and looked down to see his fears confirmed. His right leg was twitching oddly, and when he felt it, the leg was tense and tight; a muscle spasm. Oh God, not here, not now! He was generally quite fortunate in that it happened quite infrequently, the stretching exercises he did with Mary or William helping prevent it. There was no avoiding it completely, but when it did happen, he had become quite accomplished at hiding it, and he usually went somewhere quiet so he could lie down and Mary or William could help stretch and relax the muscle. It had never happened when he was stuck in a small space with Robert, Cora and Cousin Violet _,_ with Mary asleep. He pressed down hard on his thigh, hoping desperately that it would have some effect and knowing that it wouldn't. There was nothing he could do to stop it, and the thought of the family seeing his body so out of control was awful. They wouldn't know what was happening; he never discussed this kind of thing with them. There was nothing for it but to wake Mary, even if it did make him feel horribly guilty when she was so tired.

He kissed the top of her head, then gently shook her. She awoke slowly, blinking sleepily, the drowsy but beautiful smile that was so familiar to him appearing on her face.

"Are we there?" she asked.

"No, but…" Matthew said through gritted teeth, gesturing down to his leg, which despite the fact he was holding it, was still twitching oddly. It wasn't yet noticeable to the rest of the family, who were not paying attention, but these spasms often got worse, and he knew it wouldn't be long before everyone noticed. He berated himself silently for getting up late and taking too long to get ready that morning; he hadn't had time to stretch properly.

Mary was suddenly wide awake. She knew how Matthew would feel about this happening with her parents and grandmother present, but there wasn't a way they weren't going to notice. She would just have to deal with it quickly, calmly and efficiently. She kissed Matthew quickly.

"Right. You need to turn so you're sitting sideways on the seat with your legs up," she said quietly, completely ignoring the other occupants of their compartment, hoping this would help Matthew do the same.

They had all noticed by now, though.

"Matthew, are you alright?" Robert asked, looking worriedly at the pain that was clearly etched on Matthew's face. Then he noticed Matthew's leg was moving, and he felt as if his heart had skipped a beat. "Matthew? Your leg! What…? How…?"

"Muscle spasm," Matthew said through gritted teeth, his eyes still closed, his hands still pressing down hard on his thighs. He couldn't bear to look at Robert's face.

"But how…? I thought…" Robert began again, confused and bewildered.

"I'm not moving my leg, Robert. It just happens. I don't have any control over it," Matthew said shortly.

Robert continued to stare as Mary helped Matthew move and, with some difficulty, lifted his legs up onto the seat so they were resting on her lap. She carefully removed his right shoe, sighing in frustration as she struggled (why hadn't she thought to put a shoe horn in her handbag?), and began to massage his foot and calf in an attempt to relax the muscle. Matthew sat back with his eyes closed, partly from pain and partly from embarrassment.

Violet and Cora were looking away to give Matthew some privacy, but Robert didn't. He couldn't. Mary tried stretching Matthew's foot as the twitching began to stop, and slowly the muscle relaxed. Matthew opened his eyes and looked when the pain in his back abated somewhat, and saw to his relief that it was over. He still couldn't look at anyone, and stared down at his legs, which were now motionless once again.

"Are you alright?" Mary asked, taking his hand in hers.

"What do you think?" he answered shortly. He saw Mary bite her lip and begin to turn away, and instantly felt guilty. "Mary, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap, it's just…"

Mary turned back and smiled weakly, squeezing his hand. "I know. You don't need to apologise." She sighed. "I'm afraid you'll have to keep your legs up here for a while; they still feel tight, and there's not a lot more we can do on the train. You really need to lie down."

Throughout their conversation, Mary and Matthew had ignored the other passengers in the compartment, finding it easier that way. They, taking their cue from the couple, said nothing and pretended to be deeply absorbed in what they were doing. Cora was embarrassed and pitied both Mary and Matthew; Matthew for his lack of control over his body, and Mary for the fact that she had to look after him. Whatever she claimed about not being a nursemaid was clearly nonsense, and the idea that anyone would ever believe that Matthew could possibly have fathered a child was ridiculous. She did love him as her son-in-law, but the facts couldn't be avoided; he was a cripple.

Violet didn't understand medical matters, of course, but she was quietly proud of the calm and efficient way her granddaughter had dealt with the problem. She couldn't deny that it had shocked her at first, but from Mary's demeanour, it was clear that this wasn't an unusual occurrence.

Robert he felt somehow as if he had intruded into their world, had witnessed something he shouldn't have, and felt embarrassed. He could sense Matthew's discomfort and awkwardness, and wished he could make it better. But he could think of nothing to say. He couldn't pretend he hadn't been shocked and astounded to see Matthew's leg move of its own accord, when his lower body had been still for years. What was worse was that for a split second, he had hoped for some miracle, although it had soon become obvious that Matthew had no control over what was happening.

In the absence of anything helpful to say, Robert began to talk about his and Tom's success at deerstalking, and Shrimpy's excellence and expertise. It had always been his tactic to talk about sport when there was nothing else to say, and he could keep up a conversation about it without assistance for quite some time. This time, however, Matthew grasped the opportunity to talk of something not related to himself, and to take his mind off the pain, and asked questions whenever Robert seemed to be flagging.

* * *

When they arrived home, Mary and Matthew went straight to their bedroom to lie down. They would eat off trays in bed rather than join the family for dinner later.

Matthew, as well as being tired and in pain from the long journey, was embarrassed about what had happened on the train, and didn't particularly want to spend time with Robert and Cora after they had seen him so out of control of his own body. Especially Cora, who had already been looking at him with pity, thinking that his wife had been unfaithful to him because he couldn't be a proper husband to her.

He was angry at his body, feeling weak and pathetic, especially when William had had to lift him onto the bed and dress him in his pyjamas like a baby, because his shoulders and back were hurting and his legs were still tight, and he couldn't do anything for himself. Now he was lying on his stomach, feeling helpless and depressed.

Mary had sensed Matthew's mood, and had kept quiet, hoping he would cheer up a bit when lying down for a while lessened the pain in his back a little. After a short argument, she had persuaded him to take the stronger pain medication Clarkson had prescribed for him for when the pain was bad, as it was now. She had tried on the train, but he had refused, as it made him drowsy. His mood did not seem to be improving though, and she wanted desperately to do something to help.

"How's your back?" she asked gently.

"How do you think it is, after that journey? Very painful," he replied shortly, grimacing. "It was bad before we even got on the train. Someone needs to sort out the roads in Scotland. The drive from Duneagle to the station was torturous."

"Do you think you can manage your stretching exercises? Your legs are still tight. Or I could just massage them, that's sometimes enough?" Mary asked calmly, ignoring his tone of voice.

"No. Leave it. It's fine," he said tightly. He didn't want to think about his legs, didn't want Mary touching them when he couldn't feel it, didn't want to watch her moving them when he had no control over them whatsoever. It was a cruel joke that he had been embarrassed earlier by his legs moving when he didn't want them to, but when he _did_ want to move them, he couldn't do anything.

"We really ought to-" Mary began, but Matthew cut her off.

"Just leave it, Mary! I don't want to think about my pathetic crippled legs, alright?" he snapped. When Mary placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, he shook her off, hurting his back even more. "And I don't want your pity."

Mary had tried to be patient, but he was being impossible. "Listen, Matthew. I know you're in pain and I know you hate what happened on the train, but it's not my fault. I'm only trying to help, and you're snapping at me as if I've done something wrong. Don't be so unreasonable." Honestly, if it was anyone's fault it was his, for skipping his stretching exercises without telling her, then refusing to take anything stronger than aspirin for the pain until a few minutes ago.

Matthew scowled, but as he was lying on his stomach, he was facing the pillow rather than Mary, so she didn't see. He was still and silent for a minute, his whole upper body tense with irritation, although that was only making his stiff shoulders worse. Mary took several deep breaths to calm herself, then carefully pulled up his pyjama shirt and began to massage his back. He stiffened even more at her touch, but then relaxed slightly.

He didn't want her hands on him, didn't want to need her help and her care. But at the same time, he craved her touch, and the feel of her hands on his skin was wonderful. Her hands were warm and soothing, and she knew from years of experience exactly what would help him. She gently worked at his knotted muscles, and against his will, drew a few groans and sighs from him as he felt the tension and the spasms slowly relax. When he could feel only one of her hands on him, he knew the other was massaging below where he could feel. He used to think it perfectly ridiculous for her to do that, but now, he had to admit that relaxing the muscles of his lower back helped relieve some of the tension where he could feel it. And Mary always kept one of her hands where he could feel it, for which he was grateful. It had been a horrible day, but she was making it better, as she always did.

Mary smiled to herself as she saw him relax. Travelling was always hard on him, but today had been awful, and she couldn't blame him for being miserable. She could tell from the tightness of his muscles how much pain he must be in, but she could also tell that she was helping him. He flinched as she gently brushed her hand over his scar. He still thought it was ugly, even though he'd never seen it, but it was nothing compared to what it had been when he had first come back from France, and this, along with all his other scars, were just part of him. The dark bruise was still there, but it was smaller now, and slightly faded. She leaned down and kissed it gently. He inhaled sharply, then breathed out a long sigh.

As Mary's massage and the painkillers began to relieve the pain, he began to actually enjoy Mary's soothing touch, and as his anger slowly dissipated, he began to feel rather ashamed of his behaviour.

After several minutes, he sighed and said, "I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault. And you _are_ helping, you always help. I don't mean to be so… bad tempered. Forgive me?"

"I accept your apology, my darling. Are you feeling better?"

"Very much. Thank you. But you need to rest too, darling."

Mary sighed. "You're right. Your child is tiring me out. Sea monster."

This brought a smile to his face. It was terribly unfair that Mary would have to suffer sickness, tiredness, discomfort and pain to bring their child into the world. But they were going to have a child! The news, which he had known for over a week now, still struck him as unbelievable and miraculous every time he thought of it. He reached out awkwardly to touch her stomach.

"I can't believe that after all these years I'm still a Sea Monster," he said, pretending to be put out.

"Perseus is boring. And you're not just _a_ Sea Monster, you're _my_ Sea Monster, and that makes all the difference," Mary said softly. "Now sleep. We have an important day tomorrow."

"A very important day. I can't wait," Matthew said happily. He closed his eyes and yawned. "I love you, my beautiful Andromeda."

"As I love you, my hideous Sea Monster."

"Mary!"

"Alright, my handsome, intelligent, heroic Sea Monster. Will that do?"

Matthew burst out laughing, and Mary joined him. There were few things that made her happier than succeeding in making her husband laugh, especially when he had been miserable and in pain such a short while ago.

Mary lay down on her side, facing him, and took his hand in hers, before closing her eyes and relaxing.

They were both almost asleep, when they were disturbed by footsteps coming down the corridor. Whoever was coming was walking quickly and purposefully. Matthew pushed up carefully on his forearms and looked at Mary.

"Mother," he said, and at the same time, Mary said, "Isobel." They laughed.

"You would have thought someone might have told her we were resting," Matthew said as he lowered himself down to the pillow again. He would be glad to see his mother again, but he had been so nearly asleep, and he didn't want her fussing over him.

"I'm sure someone _did_ tell her, but when has what anyone else says ever stopped your mother?" Mary said with a smile.

They heard a knock on the bedroom door, and Mary sighed. She loved her mother-in-law, but honestly, this was their _bedroom_. She considered pretending to be asleep, but decided against it. Isobel opened the door without waiting for a reply. Knowing she had no choice, Mary sat up and tried to tidy her hair and dress a little.

"Hello Mother," Matthew said, pushing up again and trying to twist around to see her. His back could only take it for a few seconds though, before he had to lie flat again.

"Hello my darling boy," Isobel said affectionately, walking quickly over to sit on a chair next to his side of the bed. She looked over at Mary. "Hello Mary my dear. I'm sorry to burst in like this, but I was invited for dinner, and Cora said you weren't going to be joining us. I couldn't not see you while I was here. How was your holiday?"

"It was wonderful," Matthew replied, smiling as he thought of Mary's news. He was half tempted to tell his mother at that moment; he, Mary and Anna were certain, and Cora and Edith had guessed, so surely seeing Clarkson was just a formality. But Mary wanted everyone to be told together, when they were certain beyond doubt, and he would respect that. She was right, he knew.

Isobel smiled. "I'm glad. How was Rose?"

"As she always is; wild, funny, and at odds with her mother," Mary answered, frowning slightly as she thought of Susan and Rose's troubles, and then of her own recent argument with Mama.

"I haven't been to the Highlands since before you were born, Matthew," Isobel said, smiling as she remembered. Then she looked concernedly at him. "Cora said you had a bad muscle spasm on the train."

Matthew sighed. There was nothing he wanted to think about less than that, now his mood had improved and he was ready to forget everything and go to sleep. "Yes. But I'm fine now."

"You know it can happen because you have an infection somewhere, or something else wrong below where you can feel? Are you well?" Isobel asked, trying not to sound too concerned, but failing. Matthew thought of what Mary had said when they had left for Scotland about his mother worrying about him.

"I promise I'm alright, Mother. I was just sitting in a funny position on the train, and I got up too late to stretch properly this morning," Matthew said, trying his best to reassure her.

She reached out and felt his forehead, worrying still that there might be something wrong that he wasn't aware of. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt that he wasn't hot. Then she remembered the pained expression on his face when had he pushed up to greet her. "Are you in pain, Matthew? I assume you've taken aspirin, but if it's still bad, you should take something stronger."

"It's fine as long as I don't move too much, and I have taken something stronger. You don't need to worry, Mother. Please, everything's alright. We had a very enjoyable holiday, and once I've had a good night's sleep, I'll be fine. I promise I'd tell you if there was anything even slightly wrong. We'll see you tomorrow, and we can talk properly. Now, I'm just very tired."

Isobel ran her hand through his hair and smiled. "Well then, I shall go back, or I'll miss dinner. I was told you were resting, but I had to see you while I was here. I won't disturb you any longer." She stood up from her chair then placed a hand on Matthew's shoulder and added, "But make sure you stretch properly tomorrow, Matthew."

"I will," Matthew promised wearily.

Isobel nodded and walked towards the door.

"Come for dinner tomorrow," Mary said suddenly as Isobel reached the door. By tomorrow, she would have seen Clarkson, and would be able to share their news with everyone. Then, realising it sounded odd just to tell, almost _order_ Isobel to come without giving an explanation, or even really asking properly, she smiled and added hurriedly, "since we're missing you tonight, and we've been away for over a week."

Isobel looked at her curiously, but left without saying anything. She knew something was going on, but as of yet, she had no idea what it was. She meant to find out at the earliest opportunity, but for now, it was obvious that her son and daughter-in-law just wanted to be left alone to rest. Her curiosity would have to wait. Anyway, she could try interrogating Cora after dinner.

* * *

The next day, Mary walked down to the village hospital alone. She had told her parents that she was simply going out for a walk. Matthew had offered to go with her, but the thought of him being present when the doctor examined her made her uncomfortable, and besides, if he was going to be up for the important dinner that evening, he needed to rest.

When Mary had kissed him goodbye though, he had wished her luck, and pressed into her hand the little stuffed dog she had given him to take to the front all those years ago. It was silly really; either she was pregnant or she was not, and luck had nothing to do with it now. But still, she was grateful for it.

When she arrived at the hospital early, Mary sat on the hard wooden chair outside Dr Clarkson's office, fidgeting with her handbag. She didn't take the little dog out, but the knowledge that it was there was enough to keep her sane while she waited. She looked up nervously every time someone came down the corridor, hoping Isobel wouldn't find her here.

Finally, the door to the doctor's office opened and Dr Clarkson looked out.

"Lady Mary! I wasn't aware you had arrived. Come in."

Mary rose slowly and went into the office, closing the door behind her.

"Take a seat," Dr Clarkson said, and Mary sat on a chair that was only marginally more comfortable than the one in the corridor. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Mary took a deep breath. "I think… I believe I am pregnant," she said, feeling a smile turning up the corners of her mouth as she spoke.

Dr Clarkson had known about what Mary and Matthew had discovered was possible, as after much debate, they had decided the doctor should know, however embarrassing it was to tell him. He had in fact been intrigued by it; he had no previous experience of paralysed patients who were able to maintain an erection. But privately, he had been almost certain that it would lead to nothing. The last thing he had expected was for Lady Mary to be here telling him she believed herself to be pregnant.

It took him a moment to force his facial expression back to the detached and neutral one he wore when he was working. He proceeded by asking her questions, then doing the physical examination, still feeling rather dazed and shocked.

When he had finished, he asked Mary to sit down again and looked at her seriously.

"I am very pleased to tell you that you are indeed pregnant, and my best estimation is that the baby is due in early March. You seem to be in perfect health, and I believe the morning sickness will improve soon. May I offer my congratulations, Lady Mary."

Mary stared at him, still hardly daring to believe that it was true. Not only was she pregnant, but she was further along than she had thought. Then as it gradually sunk in, she felt her eyes grow hot and wet with tears of joy, and before she knew it, she had lost her composure and self-control, and was sobbing into her hands, as happy as she could ever remember being in her life.

Dr Clarkson sat awkwardly, looking away to give her privacy. He had not expected ever to see the cold, poised Lady Mary Crawley crying openly in his office. He had seen her remain calm and collected when the man she loved had been badly wounded, when members of her family had been near death - Spanish Flu, pre-eclampsia, pneumonia. At the best of times, his strength as a doctor was not comforting weeping women, and this uncharacteristic display of emotion from Lady Mary was so strange, he felt even more uncomfortable.

"Would you like…erm… shall I give you a moment?" he asked awkwardly, and without waiting for an answer, he left Mary alone in the room and went to the ward.

Mary continued to cry, although she wasn't entirely sure why. She had already known, really, and it was so unlike her to lose her composure in front of anyone besides Anna and Matthew. She blamed the baby.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting there, when she heard a knock on the door and someone saying 'Dr Clarkson?" She didn't move, but tried to cry more quietly. The person outside did not leave however, and the next thing she knew, the door was opening.

"Dr Clarkson? I just need to get…" the voice said. Mary looked up and turned, and was shocked to see Isobel standing in the doorway staring at her.

"Mary? What are you doing here?" Isobel asked, looking at Mary's tearstained face with concern. "Are you ill?" She went over to embrace her daughter-in-law. Mary stood and allowed herself to be pulled into Isobel's arms and held tightly.

Mary laughed through her tears. "I'm fine."

"Then-" she began worriedly, her eyes suddenly wide with panic, but Mary guessed what she was going to ask.

"Matthew's fine too. And everyone else."

"Then would you like to explain to me why you're sitting in the hospital crying?" Isobel asked, her voice sympathetic but firm.

Mary bit her lip. Matthew would want to be the one to tell his mother, she was fairly certain of that. But how was she to put Isobel off?

"I… I'll explain tonight. I am alright though," she said, trying her hardest to stop crying.

Isobel continued to look at her sceptically. "Mary, dear, you can trust me with anything. I can't believe you're fine when you're crying like this after seeing a doctor."

Mary looked away. What could she do? Isobel was not the sort of woman who would give up, and she doubted she would be allowed to leave until she had told her mother-in-law something. Matthew would understand. And she couldn't lie, and being evasive hadn't worked, so…

"I truly am fine, Isobel. More than fine. You see… I'm pregnant."

Isobel pulled back a little to look hard at Mary's face, her eyes wide open and her mouth a small 'o' of surprise. She couldn't speak, could hardly believe that what she had heard was the truth. But she recognised the joy in Mary's eyes and knew that she had heard correctly. She laughed suddenly and pulled her daughter-in-law close, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I can't believe… I mean, it's so… Oh Mary!" she said, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"It's due in March," Mary informed her. "We meant to tell everyone tonight. I realised when we were in Scotland, but I couldn't say anything until I had seen Dr Clarkson."

"Yes. Quite right. Very sensible," Isobel said, releasing Mary and standing back to look at her. "Oh Mary, this is such wonderful news! A grandchild! I can hardly believe it. You and Matthew will make such wonderful parents."

Mary raised her eyebrows. "Matthew will be the best father a child could ever wish for. But I'm not sure about me. I don't know anything about babies, how will I know what to do?"

"You will know. And besides, you have six months yet to go before you have to worry about it." Isobel frowned. "How did it take you this long to notice? Three months is a long time, Mary."

Mary shook her head and looked down, a little embarrassed. "I was trying not to let myself hope. I suppose I simply didn't let myself consider it." She laughed a little. "I suppose it should have been obvious. Anna guessed weeks ago, apparently."

"Well you can let yourself do more than hope now. And the most dangerous time for miscarriages has passed, so you don't need to worry about that. Everyone will be so happy for you," Isobel said.

Mary smiled and was silent for a while. Then a frown creased her forehead.

"Isobel? Tonight, when we tell everyone, will you explain about Dr Wilson, and… everything? You see…" She paused and took a deep breath. "Mama guessed my condition when we were in Scotland, and she… she doesn't… she believes that the child is not Matthew's. She won't listen to me, and we've hardly spoken since. I think she would listen to you."

Isobel stared at Mary, shocked and horrified that Mary's own mother could think that of her. Isobel admitted to herself that she would have believed almost anything of the haughty, snobbish Lady Mary she had first known in 1912. But she would never believe that her beloved daughter-in-law would do anything of the sort. Surely anyone with eyes could see Matthew and Mary's devotion to each other, and could never suspect Mary of being unfaithful? But apparently not.

"You didn't mention that there was even a chance, did you?" Isobel asked gently.

Mary shook her head. "We didn't want everyone to be waiting for an announcement that might never have come. We couldn't know whether it really was possible or not until it happened. But now, I realise it looks… odd. Although Matthew thinks everyone else will believe us, especially if you explain it all."

"Of course I will explain, and I will _make_ her listen to me. And I agree with Matthew; I don't think anyone else would doubt your word," Isobel said, and Mary felt suddenly confident that everything would be alright. She smiled.

"Thank you. I should get going, and I suppose you're busy," she said.

Isobel shook her head. "How could I be busy when you have told me such wonderful news? I don't know how I'll concentrate for the rest of the day. But we are in Dr Clarkson's office, and I expect he'll need it soon. If you wish, I can take the rest of the day off and we can take tea at Crawley House."

Mary smiled, but shook her head. "Thank you, but I want to get back. Matthew will be desperate to know the news."

"Of course he will. Is he alright today?" Isobel asked, a concerned frown replacing her smile.

"Still a bit stiff, but he's fine. He's staying in bed until dinner."

Isobel's smile returned. "Good." She paused. "This is why you invited me for dinner yesterday, isn't it. I tried to get it out of Cora, but she pretended not to know what I was talking about. You mustn't worry about tonight though, I promise everything will be fine. Oh Mary, I don't think I've ever had better news!"

* * *

When Mary arrived home, she went straight to her bedroom. She found Matthew sitting up in bed, reading a newspaper. He looked up when she entered the room, and she could see the question in his eyes.

Mary's eyes filled with tears, and she smiled, nodding.

Matthew dropped his paper and opened his arms to her, unable to speak. Mary ran to him and they held each other, smiling and laughing, hardly able to believe that this wasn't a dream. She took his hands and placed them on her stomach and they stared at each other.

"We're going to have a baby," Matthew eventually choked out. "I must be the happiest man alive!"

Mary could only nod. Then they kissed, tasting each other's tears and trembling together with joy.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Happy New Year everyone!**_

 _ **I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. For some reason, I found this chapter particularly challenging to write, and it's taken a while for me to be happy with it. Hopefully the next chapter will be finished much sooner.**_

 _ **Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

Mary stood in front of the full length mirror in her bedroom and ran her hand down the front of her dress to feel the small swell of her pregnancy. She could still hardly believe it. March seemed awfully soon. It felt strange to have only found out for certain that day, and to be told that she was already three months into her pregnancy. It was as if she had missed weeks of her child's life, although now she knew, it seemed that it should have been blindingly obvious several weeks ago.

But this was the night they had been waiting for for what seemed like forever. There was no longer any doubt about the fact that she was pregnant, and it was time to tell everyone. It seemed almost funny that Isobel, Mama and Edith already knew, without knowing that the others knew, but there was nothing she could have done about that.

But despite the fact that she had looked forward to this day since she had discovered she was pregnant, the sense of excitement was spoilt by the reaction she had had from her mother. Would Mama say anything when she made the announcement? Would she voice her doubts and ruin everything?

At least Isobel would be there to support them.

"Are you ready?"

Mary spun around, startled for a moment by the voice. But she knew it was Matthew before she had even turned around far enough to see him, and her worried expression broke into a smile.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that. You'll give someone a heart attack!" she said playfully.

"I only do it to you. And you're not feeble enough for it to do you any harm." He came over to her and placed his hand almost reverently on hers, which still rested on her stomach.

"So are you ready?" he asked, not having received an answer to his earlier question.

"If you are," Mary replied, trying to hide her worry.

"I'm ready for anything as long as you're by my side," Matthew said softly. "It will be alright, you know. You know what Mother's like; she knows the truth, and she will stand up to anyone who dares to disagree."

Mary tried to smile, but couldn't seem to make the muscles in her cheeks obey. Matthew's heart clenched as he thought how sad it was that the day that should have been one of the most exciting and joyous of her life was causing her so much worry and stress. He knew how much Cora's assumptions had hurt her, and wished desperately that he could make it better.

It was his fault, really. Several times since they had discovered that it was potentially possible for them to have a child, Mary had suggested that they tell the family, and each time, he had said no. It had been partly to spare her the pressure of everyone watching her for signs of pregnancy, waiting each day for an announcement that might never come.

But it had also been for his sake. Ever since the day he had woken up in the hospital after being brought back from France, his abilities, and lack thereof, had seemed to be public knowledge. He never spoke to anyone except Mary, Mother and Dr Clarkson about anything concerning his condition, and yet everyone seemed to know everything. The entire family had known that he would never walk again before anyone had told him. The entire family had been told that he couldn't father a child. Everyone knew that he wasn't likely to live long.

He had wanted this one thing to be private. He had wanted this one thing about his body to be about him and Mary, not 'the family' as a whole. He wanted it to be about the possibility of him and Mary becoming parents, not about the possibility of having an heir.

But through wanting that, he had made things far more difficult that they had to be.

He shook himself. Now was not the time for regrets or worries, now was the time for celebration. Everyone but Cora would believe them and would be delighted, he was certain of that, and if Mother explained everything as she had promised she would, then even Cora would find it hard to doubt.

"No more worrying, Mary," he said firmly, looking up at her and holding her gaze.

"No more worrying," she agreed, trying to sound confident. Matthew, however, could tell that the confidence was an act, and not knowing what else to do to reassure her, he pulled Mary down onto his lap so suddenly she laughed and all but fell down to him. Even falling though, she managed to look beautiful, elegant and graceful to Matthew. He kissed her, holding her tightly, and was pleased when he felt her relax and kiss him back.

After a minute, she pulled back slightly.

"You should be more careful darling; I am carrying your child, remember," she teased.

Matthew, however, took her seriously and looked at her fearfully. "Darling, are you alright? I'm so sorry, I'll be more careful," he said quickly.

Mary smiled and shook her head. "I was joking, Matthew. You needn't take everything I say so seriously. Being dragged down like that was quite thrilling, actually, and I almost wish we could skip dinner and just… go to bed."

Matthew relaxed a little, but still looked troubled. "You may have been teasing, but you're right; you must take care of yourself. I was careless. I could have hurt you. Both of you."

"No, darling, you weren't careless. You caught me. You mustn't worry too much; women get pregnant and have babies every day. It's not an illness, but a perfectly natural and wonderful process. I'm not made of glass."

"I know. I just… I love you so much, I couldn't bear it if anything happened… And if it were my fault…"

"I will be fine. You would never hurt me, even by accident. Now stop worrying. We have an important evening ahead of us."

Mary stood up and smoothed her dress over her stomach again. She checked her hair in the mirror, nodded approvingly at her appearance, and turned back to Matthew.

"Come on then."

They hadn't realised the time, and when they reached the drawing room, everyone was already assembled for dinner. Isobel, who hadn't seen her son since Mary had told her about her pregnancy, didn't even attempt to hide the joyful smile that appeared on her face as soon as she saw Matthew. She was glad she didn't have to keep it secret for long.

Robert also smiled when he saw Matthew and went over to him.

"Matthew, my boy! I'm glad to see you up again, and looking so well. How are you?"

"Perfectly fine, thank you, after a day of rest," Matthew replied. Memories of the previous day made him feel rather embarrassed at Robert's questioning. He wanted to forget that train journey had happened at all.

"Good. I'm glad. You had me worried again, after yesterday" Robert said, trying to make light of the fact that barely a day went by without him worrying about Matthew's health. He understood so little about Matthew's condition, and it always worried him whenever Mary told him that Matthew would be spending the day, or part of it, in bed. He remembered the pain Matthew had been unable to hide when he had had that muscle spasm on the train the day before, and felt horribly sad for the trials and difficulties his son-in-law faced every day.

"You needn't have worried, Robert, I'm fine," Matthew said uncomfortably.

Carson appeared in the doorway, cleared his throat, and announced dinner.

Over dinner, everyone talked enthusiastically about Scotland and appraised Isobel of everything that had happened there. Isobel tried to be interested, but really, there was only one thought that occupied her mind. She watched Mary and Matthew give each other secret glances throughout dinner, and wondered when they would make the announcement. She watched Cora, who was unusually quiet, watching Mary with a deep sadness in her eyes. Part of Isobel felt sorry for her, but at the same time, she was astonished and angry that Cora could have so misunderstood the situation. True, Cora didn't know all the facts, but to have simply assumed the worst without waiting for a better explanation…

Mary and Matthew hadn't decided when they were to make the announcement, and as they finished dessert, they began to wonder if they would ever pluck up the courage. It just seemed too daunting now everyone was here.

When Cora rose and signalled to the ladies that it was time to go through though, Mary suddenly decided what to do.

"Papa? Could you possibly forgo your brandy and cigars tonight, and come through to the drawing room with us? Matthew and I have something to tell you which is worth missing it for," she said, her hand resting on Matthew's shoulder.

"Yes, of course, if you wish," Robert replied, frowning. He didn't like change. "But what…?"

"Patience, Papa," Mary chided, smiling even as her heart beat faster in anticipation.

They all went through to the drawing room and took a seat, apart from Mary and Matthew who waited by the fireplace for silence so they could begin. The rest of the family looked at them expectantly, apart from Cora, who sat as far from Mary as possible, her face pale and her eyes sad and anguished. Robert noticed and frowned again.

"Cora? Are you quite well?"

She didn't answer him, but instead looked imploringly at her eldest daughter.

"Mary, please, not now, not yet, let me…" she began, but Mary looked at her with such anger, she was silenced.

Robert, beginning to worry, looked between his daughter and his wife, hoping for an explanation.

"What in God's name is going on?" he asked. He felt as if there was always something going on that he was unaware of, and he didn't like it.

"Nothing bad, Papa, whatever Mama's behaviour might suggest. If everyone will just be quiet and listen for one minute, you will find out," Mary replied, exasperated.

There was silence.

"I went to see Dr Clarkson today," Mary began, then stopped when she saw the worry on everyone's faces. She smiled reassuringly. "No, no, don't worry, I'm not ill. Quite the opposite, in fact. You see, I have suspected for a while now, and I had it confirmed today: I am pregnant."

Instead of the exclamations of joy she and Matthew had been hoping for, Mary's words were instead greeted by the stony silence they had been dreading. Mary's smile faltered, and she looked to Matthew for reassurance. He looked up at her steadily and with so much love, Mary felt reassured. He rubbed little circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, something he knew she always found calming.

"What… what did you say?" Robert almost whispered after what seemed like an age.

"Mary is pregnant, and our child is expected in March," Matthew said, realising that Mary was in no state to repeat herself.

Robert continued to stare uncomprehendingly at them. He felt as if his brain simply wasn't working. Mary said she was pregnant. But that was impossible. There couldn't be an heir, Clarkson had made that clear. But Mary was going to have a baby. The facts didn't add up. He couldn't make sense of it.

"I… I don't understand. I…" he trailed off, and shook his head in confusion.

Then Isobel, having had enough, stood up and went to stand next to Mary, taking her other hand.

"Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I am delighted by this news," she said.

"But… how?" Robert managed.

"I don't know about you, Robert, but I think the first thing that ought to be said is congratulations. Explanations, though certainly necessary, can wait," Violet said. "This is wonderful news, Mary dear, and Matthew, I'm so pleased for you." Isobel gave her a grateful look.

Then, suddenly, everyone seemed to come to life. Robert, Edith, Sybil, Tom and Anthony all rushed over to offer their congratulations, and Cora shook her head and looked away.

When everyone had calmed down a little, Mary spoke again.

"I suppose this is… rather a surprise to everyone, and I think Mama in particular requires an explanation. Isobel, could you…?"

Isobel smiled and took over, and explained about Dr Wilson's visit and what he had told her, the rest of the family watching and listening avidly.

"We didn't say anything, because we didn't want to raise anyone's hopes when nothing was by any means certain," Mary said, her voice almost pleading, willing her family to believe her. "We had given up hoping, when I realised when we were in Scotland that pregnancy was the most likely explanation for… symptoms I had been having. We said nothing until today because I wanted to have it confirmed by a doctor first, but now I am certain."

Cora suddenly rose from her seat and went over to Mary. Matthew quickly began to talk loudly to anyone who would listen to try to let Mary and Cora have a conversation without being overheard.

"My darling, I'm so sorry. I said some truly unforgivable things to you. I was wrong. Can you ever forgive me?" Cora said, keeping her voice low enough not to be heard.

Mary looked down, took a deep breath, then looked straight into her mother's eyes. "I know how it must have seemed to you. I know that perhaps we should have told you earlier. I didn't expect you to understand straight away. But I tried to explain, and you wouldn't listen. You didn't believe me, Mama, you didn't trust me." She took another deep breath. "I understand you only wanted to help. I know you love me, and you must know that I love you. But what you said, what you assumed about me…" She shook her head. "Edith believed me, you know. I told her what I told you, and she listened and let me explain, and she believed me. We have been at odds since we were little girls, and yet she believed me, and you didn't." She leaned in and said even more quietly "Do you remember what you told me that night Mr Pamuk died? You said, 'I feel now that I can never forgive you for what you have put me through. I hope in time, I will come to be more merciful.'"

Cora gasped, remembering suddenly that awful night, and the words she had said that she had regretted ever since. Then, like now, she had assumed the worst without waiting for a proper explanation. Then, as now, she had made things harder for Mary than they already were.

"I can't tell you how very sorry I am. For now, and for then," Cora whispered, tears making her eyes glisten in the firelight. "I love you, my darling girl. You are so precious to me, so very precious. I've always wanted you to be happy, that is all. That's why I've done everything I've done, said everything I've said. I've just wanted you to be happy."

Mary nodded slowly. "I know. I know that Mama. So I won't say to you what you said to me that night. I will forgive you. I do forgive you. But what you said, what you assumed… it hurt me, Mama, and I don't think I can forget it. I forgive you, but I can't pretend it didn't happen." She sighed, and forced a smile. "But let's not talk about it now. I want you to be happy for me, because I am so very happy."

Cora wanted to embrace her daughter, but thought better of it, and instead, squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek quickly. "I am happy for you," she whispered. She stood back and glanced at Matthew, feeling rather embarrassed, then went to sit down again.

Robert looked curiously at Cora and then Mary, and was about to ask precisely what was going on, but Mary gave him a look that clearly meant 'leave it' and shook her head, so Robert left it. For now. He didn't have room in his mind for any emotion but joy.

"I can't believe it!" he said. "I still can't believe it. This is so wonderful! I don't believe I have ever been so happy."

Edith felt a surge of jealousy. It hurt that everyone was more pleased for Mary and Matthew than they were for her. She was her father's daughter as much as Mary, and she and Anthony had waited just as long for a child. But it lasted only a moment. Of course Papa needed an heir, and this was such a surprise for him after being so sure for so long that there could never be one.

"My dear chap," Robert continued, his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "I cannot begin to tell you what this means to me!"

"Well it's pretty good news for us too," Matthew replied, smiling and looking up at Mary.

"Of course, of course," Robert said, laughing at himself. However pleased he was, Matthew and Mary must be even more so. "Carson? I think champagne is in order," he said to the butler, who was standing by the door smiling without restraint with pure joy. Carson left, walking with a visible spring in his step.

The family slowly moved back to sit on the chairs and sofas. Mary sat at the end of the sofa and Matthew stopped his chair next to her. They held hands, unable to let go, needing to be connected in this way on this happy evening. Sybil sat down next to Mary, smiling delightedly.

"Oh, I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining with tears. "You'll make such wonderful parents, and you deserve this so very much." She frowned. "But why you had to keep it a secret that it was possible for so long I don't know. You should have told me! Papa I can understand, but I wouldn't have said a word to anyone. How on earth did you manage to keep something so wonderful so quiet? And of course, it's so interesting, medically speaking. I mean, I'm a nurse, and I had no idea it was possible." She paused. "How is it possible? I know Isobel explained, but she explained in a way Papa and Mama could stand, and it really is quite fascinating. I…"

"Sybil darling, we are not giving you the details," Mary said firmly. "You're in danger of turning into Isobel."

"No, I know, but I just…" Sybil began, before she was stopped by Mary's raised eyebrows and Matthew's bright red ears. She sighed. "Alright, sorry. I understand."

Matthew could feel his ears and cheeks getting hot, and was certain they were turning red. This was the precise reason he had been reluctant to tell the family about the possibility of having children. Everyone was far too curious.

They were saved from further interrogation when Carson arrived with the champagne and, still smiling, poured a glass for everyone. Mary and Edith both refused, however; they had two nurses in the close family and knew it wasn't good for pregnant women to drink. Mary didn't want to think about what she had drunk in the three months before she had known she was pregnant, and hoped desperately that it wouldn't have done the baby any harm.

"Emmeline's going to miss the attention, having two younger cousins arriving not far apart," Tom said. "She's used to being the only child in the family. Even back in Ireland, I don't have any close family younger than eleven or twelve."

"We'll just have to make sure we spoil her then," Cora said. She was trying hard to join in with the joy and celebration. She was selfishly glad that Mary hadn't said anything to anyone else and that their conversation had been too quiet to be overheard, but she was going to have to tell Robert at some point, and she was dreading it. For now though, she had to pretend that her joy was as pure as everyone else's, not tainted by guilt.

"She won't mind it, Tom," Sybil said. "She'll love having younger cousins to boss around."

"Unless our son or daughter is anything like Mary, in which case Emmeline had better watch out," Matthew said, grinning at the thought of a tiny version of Mary telling her older cousins what to do. Then his smile faltered a little and he blinked. He was imagining a girl, but it didn't matter at all to him whether he and Mary would have a son or a daughter; the fact that they were having a child was what mattered. But that was not how the law saw things. They needed a son if the title was to be carried on. That would be what Robert wanted, whatever he said.

Why was the world so unfair to women? Why was it that it was through him that their child would inherit Downton, not through Mary, who was the daughter of the Earl of Grantham and who had lived here all her life? Why was he the one that mattered in terms of inheritance, when he was merely a distant cousin of the Earl? The world made so little sense.

They were lucky a daughter would be able to inherit the estate at all. It was only possible because the entail had been drawn up to take into account the possibility of a situation like this, where there was no direct male heir. If there had been a distant cousin, then only a son could have inherited this.

Well, perhaps when he became the Earl and had a seat in the House of Lords, he would be able to do something to change the world for the better. Perhaps he would succeed in abolishing entails altogether. Perhaps he could even fight for completely equal rights and opportunities for women in all aspects of their lives. The idea might be seen as radical, but that didn't make it wrong. All the strong women in his life had proved to him again and again that they were easily the equal of any man.

He surprised himself by thinking this. Usually, he didn't allow himself to think too far into the future. He had survived three years since his injury, and that was already far longer than the vast majority of men with similar spinal injuries. Each day was a struggle to prevent pressure sores and thrombosis and illness, and it always would be. Of course, he couldn't have asked for better care than he received, but even so, there was a very real possibility that he would never live to become an earl, never take his place in the House of Lords. Thinking of the future always made him think this. Mary told him not to think of it, so in general, he simply avoided thinking about the future altogether.

Now though, with a child in that future, it was impossible not to think of it.

He was brought back to the present suddenly by Mary squeezing his hand.

"Matthew? You were miles away. What were you thinking?" she asked.

"Nothing important. Did you say something?"

Mary shook her head. "Papa was asking if you wanted more champagne."

Matthew looked at Robert. "Sorry Robert. No thank you, delicious as it is, I think one glass is enough."

Robert laughed a little. "Don't be sorry. I don't blame you for thinking of other things; we've all got plenty to think about tonight!"

Matthew smiled and made a low, non-committal noise. He didn't want anyone even to guess the dark turn his thoughts had taken.

He couldn't think such depressing thoughts for long though. Everything about that evening was too happy, too wonderful.

Wonderful as the evening had been, Violet, Isobel, Edith and Anthony reluctantly began to prepare to leave, congratulating Mary and Matthew again before leaving.

As soon as they had left, Mary and Matthew accepted more congratulations and embraces, before retiring for the night, followed shortly by Sybil, Tom, Robert and Cora.

By the time she was lying in bed, the emotions warring in Mary's mind were becoming too much. All evening, her joy had been tinged with sadness, irritation, anger, and a burning sense of injustice. Now, with nothing to distract her from it, it was impossible to ignore.

First, there was her anger at Mama. While she had forgiven her mother, she couldn't stop herself from continuing to feel hurt and sad, and she wondered if that would ever change.

Then there was Papa. While he was delighted that she was having a child, she was sure that the fact there was a possibility of an heir was the most important thing to him, not the fact that his daughter was pregnant. She understood this to some extent, loving the estate as she did, and knowing that the title was part of it all. But it made her worry that her daughter might feel like a disappointment, like she had. Like she still did sometimes. She would never be able to forgive herself if that happened.

Finally, there was the fact that whether she had a son or a daughter, he or she would inherit everything through Matthew, not her. Her child would be the grandchild of the current Earl, but would inherit because Matthew was Papa's third cousin once removed or whatever he was. Matthew could have married anyone, and the outcome would be the same; she was unnecessary. It made her feel insignificant and unimportant, and it scared her.

"Mary, what's wrong?" Matthew asked, having noticed that Mary was lying stiffly next to him, seemingly absorbed in unhappy thoughts.

To her horror, Mary couldn't stop herself from beginning to cry. It felt as if she did little else at the moment.

"Mary?" Matthew said, his voice full of concern and confusion.

"It's nothing," she said between quiet sobs.

Matthew pulled her closer to him and began to rub little circles on her back. "It's not nothing. Please darling, tell me."

Mary said nothing for a minute, concentrating on trying to stop crying. She thought through everything that was worrying her. There was nothing to be gained in talking about Mama; they had had that conversation before, and she knew that more than anything else, she needed time to get over how she felt about it. She didn't want to talk about Papa's desire for a male heir, because she knew that he really was trying to atone for how he had unintentionally made her feel about not being a boy, and to think differently about it. So eventually, she voiced her final concern, and said quietly, "I don't matter. Nothing is mine. Nothing has ever been mine."

Matthew had no idea whatsoever what she was talking about. He tried to think of something comforting, but couldn't, not understanding why she needed to be comforted, and all that came out was, "What?"

Mary sighed. "None of it belongs to me, Matthew. Nobody needs me. We are having a baby, but all that matters in the eyes of the law is that it is _your_ baby. You could have married anyone, and the result would be the same. I am the eldest child of the Earl of Grantham and it means nothing. I live here, in this beautiful house, on the estate I love, and yet none of it is mine. It is Papa's. When he is gone, it will be yours." She paused, her voice catching a little as she continued, "When you are gone, it will pass to our child. Of course, I'm so glad it won't have to go to a stranger, but… I have never had anything that is truly mine, Matthew, and I never will. Not even the child I am carrying at this moment."

Matthew held her close as she began to cry again. It hurt to hear her so upset. He hadn't known she still thought like that. He had been thinking about it that evening, but until tonight, he had rarely thought about the fact that legally, it was he who would inherit everything. He was so used to thinking of himself and Mary as partners, equals, it was easy to forget that the rest of the world didn't see things that way.

"Our child is _ours_ , Mary, yours as much as mine," he said quietly. "It was conceived in love, the love we share. You say I could have married anyone, and the result would be the same, but that isn't true. Without you, I wouldn't have married at all. I wouldn't have married Lavinia, and who else would have married a cripple? And after our marriage, we have had to be so patient for you to become pregnant. Not every woman has that patience." He paused. "You're my wife, Mary; everything that is mine is also yours. Whatever the law says, Downton will belong to _us_. We will run it together. And I will fight to make it yours in law as well. When I take my place in the Lords, I will do everything in my power to abolish entails. But the world is changing, and perhaps it will happen within our lifetimes whatever I do."

He reached out brought her hand to his chest, where she could feel the beating of his heart. Choking back tears, he said softly, "And… my heart is yours. My heart, my love, will always be yours. Because you are not insignificant or unnecessary, Mary. You are the centre of my world."

"Oh Matthew," Mary whispered, moving closer to him and kissing him, hoping that this would communicate to him the depth of her love in a way any words she could say would fail to do. His words had been so perfect, she knew anything she said now would fall short of the depth and strength of the love she needed to convey to him. Matthew, of course, understood.

When they finally released each other's lips, Matthew held her tightly. "Sleep now, darling. Don't worry about anything. I love you." He placed his hand on the small swell of her stomach. "I love you _both_ , my darlings. So very much."

* * *

"You thought what?" Robert almost shouted, staring at his wife, hoping he had misunderstood.

"I've told you what I thought, Robert. I'm not going to repeat myself. You know perfectly well what I said," Cora said quietly. This conversation was going as badly as she had expected, and of course, she deserved it.

"Then let me just be sure I understood correctly. You believed that Mary had… had relations with another man, either for the purpose of becoming pregnant or because she was dissatisfied with Matthew?" His eyes flashed with an anger Cora rarely saw. She pulled the covers up higher, as if protecting herself, although she knew Robert would never physically hurt her.

"Well?" he asked when she didn't confirm or deny his statement.

"Yes," she whispered.

"And you told Mary this?"

"Yes. Susan told me while we were in Scotland that she suspected Mary was pregnant, and so I asked Mary. And she said she was. And I couldn't see how else it was possible."

"No wonder she's been so angry with you. Good God, Cora, our own daughter! Who did you think the man was? Some farm boy? Do you really not know your own daughter?"

"I didn't know who it was, Robert, but Mary is beautiful and persuasive. And it's not like she hasn't done something similar before, or have you forgotten the threat of the scandal that still hovers over this house?"

"I can't believe I'm hearing this. It's utterly ridiculous. That was years ago, and I hope you realise by now that Mary bears little blame for what happened. He went to her room uninvited, Cora, and hasn't she suffered enough for that mistake, without you bringing it up again as evidence for your insane accusations?"

"Do you think I don't feel horribly guilty? Because I do. Now that everything has been explained, I feel awful. But can you think for one moment what it looked like before? We were told in no uncertain terms that Matthew couldn't father children, and nobody ever said anything to suggest that the situation had changed. What else was I to think when Mary said she was pregnant? What other explanation could I have thought of in that moment?"

Robert looked away, shaking his head. "I didn't expect that you would have guessed the details. But to simply assume the worst… could you not have waited for her to explain properly before jumping to conclusions?"

"She was so angry, Robert, and I was terrified for her. I know now that I was wrong, but at the time, I just wanted to help her, to make the best of a bad situation. I only wanted to help."

Robert's expression softened slightly. "I know. I know you have always wanted the best for our daughters. But this, Cora… Can you imagine for one moment how Mary must feel? And Matthew? They have been through so much, Cora, more than anyone their age should have to go through. This should be such a joyous occasion. Everyone has wanted this so much and for so long, and the odds were stacked so heavily against them. But instead of celebrating, we are arguing, and I am wondering how my kind, beautiful, gentle wife could possibly think the things you have thought. I love you, Cora. I will always love you. But at this moment, I can't understand you at all, and I…"

"Don't go and sleep in your dressing room Robert, please," Cora interrupted, knowing that that was what he was about to suggest. "I assure you, anything you say to me now, any insult, any reprimand, I have already thought myself. I was wrong, horribly wrong. You, Mary, Matthew, you all have every reason and every right to be angry with me now. But sleep with me, Robert. We'll only miss each other if we sleep apart, and it never helps anything. I'm so sorry, but I can't take back the past. I didn't mean it as an insult to Mary's character. I love her, Robert, I love our daughter so very much! I just jumped to a conclusion too quickly because I didn't understand."

Robert closed his eyes and gave a deep sigh. He was tired of arguing. And he remembered the confusion he had felt in the minutes between Mary's announcement that evening and Isobel's explanation. He was still angry, but Cora was right. Sleeping apart would make the situation worse rather than better. The past couldn't be changed, and the best thing to do now was to move forwards.

"Alright. Yes, I'll stay." He stood up slowly from the armchair he had been sitting in, and went over to his side of the bed. He sat down heavily and got under the covers. "Let's not talk about it again tonight. I'm too tired. And we should be happy for them."

Cora nodded, and turned out the light. They lay in the darkness for a few minutes, not talking or moving. Then, at the same time, they shuffled closer together and settled into their usual sleeping positions, curled up close to each other.

* * *

Disappointingly for everyone, Sybil, Tom and Emmeline had to go back to Ireland the next day. Sybil would have done almost anything to be able to stay with her sisters, with both of them pregnant. She wanted to tell them everything she knew, both from her own experience and from her medical knowledge.

But she loved her life in Ireland, and she and Tom really did have to get back to work.

Mary and Edith went to the train station to see them off, Edith, against the wishes of her parents, driving them there. They arrived early and Tom tactfully went for a walk with Emmeline to give the sisters some time alone.

"You will write, both of you, to tell me every little detail, won't you?" Sybil asked almost desperately.

"Of course we will. We write quite regularly already, darling, and I'm not sure you'll want to know quite _everything,_ but we'll not forget you," Mary said, taking Sybil's hand.

"I _do_ want to know everything," Sybil insisted. Then she looked at Mary and beamed. "You know, I still don't know how I didn't guess earlier. I suppose it was just so unexpected… But, Oh Mary, it's such a miracle! After everything the doctors said, after all the worry about the heir and all Mama's fussing about not wanting you to have a childless marriage. I hope you know I couldn't be happier for you."

Mary, very touched by Sybil's sentiments and feeling rather emotional, felt her eyes getting hot with tears. She was not about to cry at a train station though.

"Thank you Sybil. And yes, it is quite a miracle. But who knows if this will solve the problem of an heir? Papa had many years of marriage and three children, and yet there was no heir. It is perfectly possible that I will have a daughter."

"And you will love her all the same," Edith said, surprised to find she actually believed herself. A few years ago, the thought of Mary having a child for any reason other than duty was almost unthinkable. But now, Edith was certain Mary would love any child of Matthew's, just as she would love any child of Anthony's. "Besides, you could have more children."

Mary smiled. "I'm not sure. We might. But I think this one is enough to worry about for now. And I don't want to be thinking too far into the future like that. This is enough of a miracle for now."

"You're right," Sybil said. "And since there's no heir after Matthew, your daughter would be able to inherit anyway." She smiled to herself. "I think I'd like that."

"I'm sure you would," Mary agreed. "I prefer not to think about what I would like. I just want a healthy baby."

"Of course you do," Edith said.

The three sisters smiled at each other, feeling closer now than they had since they were children, but knowing at the same time that Sybil would be gone within minutes.

"You will both look after yourselves, won't you?" Sybil said sternly as she saw Tom and Emmeline approaching.

"Of course," Edith assured her.

"Don't worry, Matthew and Papa between them will probably never let me leave the house until the baby is born, and possibly not for a good month after that. Don't you remember what Papa was like when you were expecting?" Mary said with raised eyebrows.

Sybil giggled. "Good luck!"

They all looked up suddenly at the sound of the train arriving at the same time as Tom reached them.

"We'd better say our goodbyes," he said. "Say goodbye to Aunty Mary and Aunty Edith, Emmeline."

Emmeline grinned, showing off all her tiny new teeth, and lifted her arms to be picked up by Mary. Mary obliged her and embraced her little niece, then kissed her when she puckered up her lips. Then Mary passed her to Edith, who did the same, but with more enthusiasm, tickling Emmeline until she shrieked with laughter.

Mary watched Edith with Emmeline and felt a little puzzled. How was it that every other woman seemed to know precisely what to do with children, while she didn't? She loved Emmeline very much, and although she pretended to dislike the title, she rather liked being 'Aunty Mary'. But although she could embrace and kiss her niece, it would never even have occurred to her to tickle her like Edith did so naturally, or to murmur nonsense words to her like Sybil and Mama did. How would she know what to do with her own child when the time came?

She was jolted back to the present by the necessity of saying goodbye properly to her sister and Tom, seeing them on the train, then watching the train draw away from the station, gathering speed and momentum until it disappeared out of sight.

Why hadn't she mentioned her concerns to Sybil? She didn't want to write them in a letter, and Sybil had always been the member of the family she was most likely to confide in. She felt Sybil's absence keenly, although she had been gone all of a minute.

She put her hands to her stomach. Prepared or not, she was going to have a baby in six months' time. She was excited and terrified in equal measure.


	8. Chapter 8

Since hearing of Mary's pregnancy, Robert had been going around in a daze of happiness. It was so utterly unexpected, and so very, very wonderful, he hardly knew what to do with himself. His face would break into a smile whenever he saw Mary or Matthew, or especially when he saw the two of them together.

Of course, the main reason for his joy was that two of the people he loved most in the world were going to be parents after years of thinking it was impossible, and he was going to be a grandfather again. Mary and Matthew's happiness was as important to him as his own, if not more so, and although it had always been obvious to everyone that they were very happily married, this was beyond his wildest dreams for them.

But at the same time, he could not stop himself thinking about the possibility of an heir. It was by no means guaranteed, and of course he would love a girl just as much, but to have an heir… Yes, that would truly make him the happiest man on earth. It would solve the problem that had been on his mind for three years and Downton would be safe, the estate and the title. Of course a daughter could inherit the estate, but while he tried not to care, it simply wouldn't be the same as the male heir he had been hoping for for decades. He and Mary and Matthew could educate the boy and prepare him for running the estate and becoming the Earl of Grantham, and everything would be alright.

He tried not to think like this; he could never let himself show even the slightest disappointment if the child was a girl, having come to realise over the years quite how much his obvious desire for a son had hurt his daughters, particularly Mary. But how could he help himself? Sybil could go on as much as she liked about how the world was unfair to women, and it would not change the fact that in this instance, a boy would inherit the title and a girl, beloved as she would be, would not.

But then, if there could be one child, it must be possible that he could hope for more in the future.

A part of him was still angry at Cora, but after his first outburst on the night Mary had announced her pregnancy, he felt as if there wasn't really enough space in his thoughts for true anger because he was too full of happiness.

Cora's happiness was tarnished by guilt. She knew that Mary said she had forgiven her, but how could she ever forgive herself? She had thought the worst immediately, and the most awful thing was, she had a suspicion that perhaps she had though the worst because… because Mary had taken a lover all those years ago. Even now, the shadow of Kemal Pamuk was there. Even now, when she knew that what had happened with Mr Pamuk was hardly Mary's fault. How could she have so misjudged her beloved daughter? Now she knew the truth, it seemed ridiculous that anyone who had been in a room with Matthew and Mary for ten seconds could suspect Mary of being unfaithful, and she was horrified that she, Mary's own mother, had failed to see that.

She wondered if her relationship with Mary would ever be the same. They were polite enough to each other, and Mary seemed to be making an effort not to be angry and resentful, which she had every right to be. But there was a new distance between them, and she knew it was a direct result of her assumptions. She had already felt that she wasn't as close to Mary as she would have liked to be, but now, it was like living with a casual acquaintance rather than a daughter.

Matthew and Mary themselves were oblivious to anything anyone else was thinking. Their own joy was all they could think about, all they wanted to think about. They went about their everyday lives as usual, but somehow, nothing felt usual now. Their work for the estate took on a new significance now they were looking after it for their child. They were still working towards making Downton self-sufficient, and with all the new innovations and changes they had introduced, it seemed as if that was a very real possibility for the near future. Their son or daughter would not have to marry a fortune to keep the estate.

They loved their child already. Their little baby, who had already brought so much happiness. All the hopes and dreams they had not allowed themselves to think about before were suddenly possibilities.

* * *

Mary stood by the lake, gazing out across the water and enjoying the fresh breeze that was blowing her skirt around her ankles and causing delicate little curls to blow across her face. The trees were just beginning to turn from summer green to rich autumnal hues of orange and red and yellow and brown, and she marvelled, as she always did, at the beauty of her home. She closed her eyes for a moment, savouring this moment of utter joy

Having been told by Isobel that walking was good for her in her condition, she had taken to going for walks alone in the grounds while Matthew was working either from home or in the office. The morning sickness had passed for the most part, and she felt full of life and happiness.

She would usually spend her walks thinking of the future, imagining what it would be like to have a child. She imagined happy scenes, as if she was writing a play of her own future in her head: scenes of Matthew playing with or just holding their child, of Papa looking adoringly at his grandchild, of her teaching her son or daughter to ride.

The clouds were thick and grey today, but this did nothing to darken her mood. Anna had warned her about the heavy skies and the threat of rain, but she had paid no attention. Matthew had gone into work in Ripon for various meetings, and Mary didn't want to sit around on her own or with Mama.

Her eyes snapped open when she heard footsteps behind her. She spun around to see who was there and let out a gasp when she saw who it was. Hard, grey-blue eyes, a cruelly smirking mouth, a posture of arrogance and self-confidence. Sir Richard Carlisle was standing only a few feet away from her.

"Out walking alone I see. Well, I suppose with one sister married to an Irish chauffeur, one married to a decrepit, crippled old farmer, and a husband who's never going to be able to join you on a _walk_ , I shouldn't be surprised. And as for friends, well, people like us don't really have them, do we Lady Mary?" he said, sneering in a way that made Mary want to be sick.

"What… what are you doing here?" she said, forcing out the words with great effort.

"Why, I've come to see you, my dear Lady Mary. You're not hard to find, you know. You come here every day. Alone."

"How do you know?"

"I have my ways."

"What do you want?"

"Merely to see you again. We were once so close. I was up in Yorkshire, so I could hardly forgo the pleasure of seeing my former fiancée again. And I want to see how you are. I worry about you, you know." His expression, in Mary's view, looked more gleeful than concerned.

"You don't need to worry about me. I am perfectly content, thank you. I don't wish to speak to you, so I am going back to the house. Goodbye, Sir Richard." Mary took a deep breath and walked in the direction of the house. She only got a few feet before Sir Richard seized her arm, gripping her wrist so tightly it hurt.

"Let me go! Have I not made it clear that I do not want to see or speak to you?" she cried, trying in vain to free herself.

"Not until I have spoken to you properly. Come and sit on this bench with me. We have much to discuss."

Mary tried again to break free, but Sir Richard's grip was too strong, and she had no choice but to allow herself to be pulled to the bench and forced to sit down. She sat with as much grace and dignity as she could muster, but it was hard with her small wrist still gripped by Sir Richard's cold, strong hand.

"Now we are sitting comfortably, let's talk honestly and rationally," Sir Richard said. His voice sounded friendly enough, but there was an edge to it that told Mary she had no choice in the matter. "How was your visit to your cousins in Scotland? I hear the highlands are particularly beautiful at this time of year."

Mary stared at him, her heart beating horribly fast. How did he know? Had he been watching her, paying other people to watch her? Yes, he probably had. That was exactly the sort of thing he would do. But she wasn't going to let him know how much this disturbed her, since she guessed this was the only reason he had said anything.

"Oh, it was very enjoyable, thank you," she said airily, as if it mattered nothing to her.

"I'm glad." He paused for a moment.

"I assume you did not come to discuss my family's holiday," Mary said.

"No. I have come to speak to you about something which is rather more important than that. I was simply making polite conversation, since it's been so long since we last met. But if you wish, we can proceed."

Mary nodded stiffly.

"You remember the letter I wrote to you after your marriage," Richard began, but Mary interrupted.

"We burned it."

Richard smiled. "Of course you did."

He clearly didn't believe her, Mary thought. Well, that was up to him. He was a fool and he didn't know her at all, whatever he had claimed in that pathetic letter.

"But you remember its contents, I'm sure," he continued.

"Well enough," she replied tightly.

"Then you will remember my offer. I am here to tell you it still stands. I suppose you have been too frightened or too loyal to your husband to come to me. So I have come to you. Haxby is still empty, and still furnished ready for its mistress. I have decided it is time for a change, and I am going to live there, at least for a while. I would like to take you with me, as my wife."

Mary looked down and swallowed, clasping the material of her coat tightly to prevent her hands from trembling; she was not going to show weakness in front of Richard Carlisle.

"I am married, Sir Richard, happily married," she said with as much dignity as she could muster, calling up the old Lady Mary from before her marriage to Matthew, the Mary who concealed everything she felt and treated anyone below her with contempt.

"You are a good actress, my dear, but you cannot fool me, I know you too well. Don't you see you don't ever have to pretend with me? I am offering you a way out of your sterile sham of a marriage. I am offering you riches and position, excitement and children. You would be a fool not to accept. He will give you a divorce if you ask for it, we both know he will. Oh, he loves you, I don't doubt that, but if he truly loves, he will set you free."

Mary's hands went straight to her stomach. She immediately regretted it. She did not wish to complicate things by allowing Richard to guess her condition. Usually, men were useless when it came to such things, but with Richard Carlisle, one could never be certain. Thank goodness they hadn't told anyone but close friends and family about her pregnancy yet, wanting a few weeks of private joy. Richard couldn't have heard yet.

But he had noticed. He looked at her with exaggerated sympathy. Mary was pleased that he seemed to think her gesture betrayed longing for a child, not protectiveness of the child that was already growing inside her.

"You see? You say you are happily married, but you give yourself away with gestures like that. I know what is in your heart Mary, and that is not the kind of faithful love you would need to be able to continue to love an impotent cripple. You're deluding yourself if you believe you'll be content to push his wheelchair and sit by his bedside until he dies. And has it occurred to you that if he dies before Lord Grantham, you'll never wear the Countess' coronet you have coveted for so long? The one material thing he can offer you may never be yours. And we both know that cripples like him don't live long. I know you don't truly want this life. You have always been a pragmatist, Mary, and I can offer you more than he can. You know, deep down, that you want to come with me."

"I assure you, I do not want to go with you anywhere. I am perfectly content with my life here, in my home, with my husband," Mary said defiantly.

Richard smirked again. "You say that as if you have learnt it by rote. You are slowly dying, Mary, I can see it. This life is killing you. Where is the strong woman I knew? They are draining the life out of you, and you don't even realise it's happening. I can see the dark circles under your eyes, I can hear the weariness in your voice. You were not made for the life of a nurse, and it does not suit you. I knew it wouldn't. You are better than that. Come with me before it's too late."

Something in Mary snapped. She was not weak, she was not slowly dying and she was not anyone's nurse. The arrogance of this man, coming to find her in the grounds of her own house to ask her to leave her husband and her life and go and live with him, was almost unbelievable.

"I will not come with you. I have told you that I'm happily married, and that is the truth. I love Matthew Crawley as much as I love my life. I have loved him for many years, including when I was engaged to you, and will continue to love him until the last breath leaves my body. You are perfectly right, the life of a nurse would not suit me, but if you think that that is the life I am leading, then I am afraid your informants have confused me with my sister Sybil. She is the nurse in this family.

"As for my tiredness, well, I assure you there is a perfectly good explanation for that, although I must tell you that it is most ungentlemanly to point out to a Lady that she looks tired. Not that you ever have been or ever will be a gentleman. I am pregnant. So you see, there is no reason whatsoever why I would wish to leave this life and live with you, whom I despise."

She smiled at him tauntingly. "You can insult my husband all you like, but don't pretend you have forgotten who ended up on the floor when you last met. Matthew is a stronger, kinder, better man than you will ever be, and he has made me happier than I ever thought possible. Goodbye, Sir Richard. I hope I never see you again."

For a few moments, Mary felt triumphant. She knew she had beaten him from the expression of shock on his pale face.

But then his expression darkened to one of anger, and Mary realised what she had done. She had insulted the man who had the power to destroy her, and now he had no reason not to do it. What had she been thinking?

"You have decided your own fate, Lady Mary," he said, his voice quiet but full of menace. "Do not expect mercy from me anymore."

"Don't worry. I have never expected anything from you but cruelty," Mary said icily.

"As for your child, well, rest assured I'll let the world know the parentage of the child that may be the future Earl of Grantham. Because I _will_ find out who the father is, and your child will be cast out from polite society as a bastard, as you will be cast out as the whore you are."

Mary gasped. Not this again! How would she ever convince everyone that her child was Matthew's, and perfectly legitimate?

"You may do and say as you like, I cannot stop you. But if you search for the father of my child anywhere further than my husband, you will not find him. I am carrying Matthew's child, and try as you might, you will not be able to disprove that, because it's true."

Richard tightened his grip on her wrist and Mary cried out as he twisted it slowly. She started to be afraid that he might break it. He smiled as her face contorted in pain.

"Oh, I don't need to prove it. I don't need to prove anything. The mere suggestion of impropriety will be enough. Goodbye, Lady Mary. And remember, whatever happens now is your fault, not mine. You had the option of coming with me, and you chose not to."

He gave Mary's wrist one last painful twist, then released it and stalked off, his anger evident from the way he was walking.

Mary clutched the wrist Richard had hurt with her other hand and bit her lip against the pain. But the pain and fear she felt inside her was worse. Through her own stupidity and anger, she had made Richard determined to ruin her, and now her child. Her baby, who was not even born, and had never done anything wrong. How could she face her father, how could she face Matthew, how could she face anyone after ensuring that the family would be ruined?

It began to rain, but Mary didn't move from the bench. She couldn't go back to the house yet. It would be so normal there, as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed. She suspected it would not be many days before her story was in the newspaper, for everyone in the country to read about over breakfast. She sat still as the rain fell heavier and heavier, hardly noticing because of a strange feeling of disconnection between her body and her mind. Even the pain in her wrist she could no longer feel.

* * *

Matthew was in a cheerful mood when he reached home. He couldn't wait to see Mary and tell her his news, the outcome of his conversation with Mr Harvell, Jonathon, and Jonathon's father, the older Mr Carter.

Mr Harvell was going to retire in the near future, and they had asked if Matthew would be willing to take his place as a partner in the firm. It would mean more work and more responsibilities, but Matthew wanted that more than anything. He enjoyed his work, and it meant a lot to him that he was trusted to take on such a role. This was what he had been dreaming about from the day he had graduated from Oxford, and while he had wanted then to be a partner in a large law firm in Manchester or even London, now, this small but growing country solicitor's office was perfect.

Of course, he was not going to accept without discussing it with the rest of the family, particularly Mary, but he doubted anyone would object, and he hoped they would be proud and pleased for him.

If he had been able, he would have leapt out of the car the moment it stopped, and rushed in to find Mary. As it was, he had to wait for the chauffeur to unstrap his chair from the back of the car, bring it round and lift him into it. The process seemed to take at least twice as long as usual, but Matthew forced himself to be patient. He imagined Mary sitting curled up on the sofa reading a book, possibly something about farming after their conversation the night before about an empty farm on the estate.

When he was finally out of the car, he made his way as quickly as possible to their sitting room, expecting to find his wife there waiting for him as she usually did.

He reached the room, opened the door and opened his mouth to greet her. Then he closed his mouth again. Mary wasn't there. He tried not to be disappointed. He was later than usual; perhaps she had given up on him, or perhaps she had gone to sit with Cora. Yes, it was unfair to expect her to be waiting for him; how was she to know that he had important news for her?

He went through to the bedroom to see if she was there. She wasn't. He checked the bathroom, then went to look for her in the library. He was tired out from the long day, and really, he knew he ought to be resting, but he had to find Mary first.

He found Robert in the library, checking the list of borrowed books.

"Matthew!" Robert said jovially when he looked up. "How was work? You're late back."

"Actually, it was very interesting. I have something to discuss with you later. But do you know where Mary is?"

"I thought she was in your sitting room, but I assume you checked there first. Perhaps she's with Cora, in the drawing room."

"Thank you."

Matthew went to the sitting room and found Cora sitting on a sofa with her embroidery. When asked if she knew where Mary was, she replied,

"I thought she was in your sitting room. She went for a walk earlier, and I assume she's back, but I haven't seen her."

Matthew was suddenly worried. He looked out at the heavy rain. Mary had gone out and nobody had seen her since. And she was pregnant. She had felt dizzy and faint a few times in the last few weeks. What if she had fainted and was lying out in the rain?

As he thought this, he was aware that he was being more concerned than he needed to be. Mary might be in another room, or might have taken shelter somewhere from the rain. But he couldn't stop himself worrying. Something didn't feel right.

He wanted to go out and search for her, but in this weather, that wasn't really an option; the thin wheels of his chair might get stuck in the wet, muddy ground, and then he would have to be rescued himself, which would get them nowhere.

He went back to their sitting room and decided what to do. He rang the bell.

A few minutes later, Anna arrived.

"Anna, have you seen Lady Mary?" he asked, trying not to betray his mounting panic.

"Not since she went out for a walk a while ago, sir." Anna bit her lip. "Actually, I was going to ask if it might not be a good idea to go and look for her. I don't think she's come home. In this weather and in her condition…"

"Yes, that is precisely what I was thinking. Would you ask William to go? And maybe someone else. I would go myself, but in this weather, it's just not practical," Matthew said, his worry increasing.

"I will, and I'll go myself too; I know where she usually walks."

"Thank you Anna."

Anna nodded and left hurriedly.

Robert was as worried as Matthew when he knew the facts, and after informing Cora of the situation, he put on his hat and coat and picked up an umbrella before going out himself.

Matthew and Cora waited in silence, looking anxiously out the window. They waited several minutes before Matthew spotted two figures coming towards the house. He quickly recognised them as Mary and Anna, and both he and Cora went straight to the door, then out to greet them.

Matthew was concerned to see that Mary seemed to be cradling her wrist as if it was causing her pain, and she was clearly wet through. Her face was blank of expression. Then she looked up and saw him, and her face crumpled and she began to cry. She left Anna and came towards him, and he opened his arms to her, not caring, or even noticing that she was soaking wet. She almost fell into his arms and buried her face in his shoulder.

Matthew, deciding that now was not the time to question her, held her tightly and looked over her head at Anna.

"Anna, please ask someone to run a bath for Lady Mary, then go and get dry. Thank you for finding her."

Anna went inside, after casting a final worried glance at Mary.

"Mary? Darling? You need to get inside and get warm and dry," Matthew said gently. Mary nodded and suddenly seemed to come back to herself. She stood up and followed Matthew back to their suite.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were both in the bath, the water as deep as possible without overflowing. Matthew sat at one end of the bath, leaning against the side, and Mary sat between his legs and leaned back against him.

"Mary? What happened to your wrist?" Matthew asked softly, cradling Mary's bruised wrist in his hand. He had been desperate to know what had happened, but had been patient for her sake until now.

Mary sighed. "Sir Richard Carlisle happened."

"What? He was here? What did he do you to you?" Matthew asked, shocked and angry. Neither he nor Mary had seen Carlisle in years.

"I was walking by the lake, and he just appeared behind me. You remember that letter he sent me just after we were married? You remember what it said? He told me today that his offer was still open. He asked me to divorce you and go with him. I refused, of course, and tried to go back to the house, but he held my wrist and stopped me, and he's stronger than I am. He said some awful things, and then I just lost my temper. And now he's going to publish."

Mary broke off to calm herself down before she burst into tears.

"Darling, we always knew he might-" Matthew began gently, but Mary shook her head and interrupted.

"No, it's worse than that. I… I let slip that I was pregnant, and now he's going to tell the world that the child is illegitimate."

They were both silent for a while. Then Matthew held Mary tighter and kissed the top of her head.

"I love you," he said gently. "You are the strongest, most wonderful woman I know. A storm braver if ever I saw one. We can brave this storm together, darling. Anyone who believes Carlisle's stupid lies is no friend of ours anyway."

"But it's not all lies," Mary said.

"Anyone who lets even the true parts of the story affect their opinion of you is no true friend either. We will be alright, Mary." He looked at her worriedly. "Are you feeling alright, after being out in that rain for so long? Should we ask someone to call Clarkson to look you over?"

"No, there's no need. I'm fine. It hadn't been raining for long when Anna found me, and it wasn't cold," she replied. She sighed. "Oh Matthew, what would I do without you?" She twisted around and kissed him with a mixture of passion and desperation.

When she drew away, she seemed more composed. "Can we speak of something else?" she asked. "I'll have to face what happened and what's going to happen, I know I will, but just for a minute, I need a distraction."

"Of course," Matthew said softly.

"How was work?" she asked.

Matthew smiled, he couldn't help it. He hadn't been sure this was the right time to tell her, but it would be a good distraction.

"It was… interesting. Actually, I have something to tell you. You know I've been taking on more work recently, what with Mr Harvell getting older and the firm growing? I had a meeting today, and Mr Harvell said that he's going to retire soon. And apparently, he, Mr Carter and Jonathon have discussed it and, well, they would like me to replace him. As a partner in the firm with Jonathon."

"Oh Matthew, that's wonderful! I'm so proud of you darling! I assume you're going to accept?" Mary said, forgetting her troubles for a moment in her happiness for Matthew.

"Yes, I mean to. But I need to discuss it properly with you and Robert first. You see, it would mean I would spend a lot more time in the office, and that would mean I would have less time for estate work. And I won't be home as much. And with a baby on the way, I'm not sure that's the best thing."

Mary sighed and turned to look at him properly. "What do you _want_ to do darling? You mustn't worry about us, this is about you. Papa can manage the estate as he always has, and I can keep an eye on him to ensure he's not letting the new ways slip because you're not there. And it's not like you won't still be living in the same house as us.

"As for me, I can manage fine. I've got Anna, and she'll take good care of me. I will miss you if you're not here, but most wives in this country see their husbands off to work every morning and don't see them again until the evening." She paused and smiled. "And there is always the weekends," she added, quoting what he had said over his first dinner at Downton back in 1912.

"Why, Lady Mary, you sound quite middle class," Matthew teased, playing with Mary's hair as he spoke.

" _Upper_ middle class, darling. And what do you expect, when I am married to solicitor, even if he does happen to be the future Earl of Grantham?"

They laughed together, then kissed again.

"Now," Mary said after a while. "Have you any idea precisely how much more time you will be spending at the office if you accept? And how much more work you'll have to do?"

"Well, since I wouldn't have a boss, as such, I wouldn't have fixed hours, and I would try to do as much from home as possible; Jonathon said he would continue to manage most of the day to day running of the office. But really, it would be easier if I was there most days, and all the time if Jonathon is ill or away for some reason. I'll have more to do at home too."

"Do you think you could manage the extra work? Before you scold me, I'm not fussing, I'm asking a perfectly reasonable question. I know you get tired after a long day like today. Could you cope with day after day of it?"

Matthew sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. But I wouldn't have to work long days unless Jonathon wasn't there, or sometimes if I had meetings all day, and since I don't think that would happen very often, I think it would work. And anyway, Mr Harvell plans to retire gradually, handing responsibility over to his successor slowly.

"They also mentioned the idea of bringing someone new in, someone experienced. The firm's growing, and we could do with someone else to take some cases. It might not be easy to find someone, but I think Mr Carter is going to start asking around, telephoning old friends and colleagues. He misses working, you know. I think he wants to do something to help, but he really isn't well enough to do much. But if we can find someone new, it will make everything easier, and the work will be shared between more people. I do think it would work."

Mary took a deep breath. "Then I think you must do it, if that is what you want. I'm so proud of you, darling." She didn't like the idea of him being out every day, and she couldn't help worrying that it would be too much for him. But he obviously wanted this, and she wanted him to be happy. And she truly was so proud of him.

"Now we've just got to deal with Robert's reaction," he said, sounding worried.

"Oh, Papa will be fine. He despaired of turning you into one of us years ago. He's resigned to it, and I think he secretly admires you for working. And compared to what I have to tell him, your news will pale into insignificance. I have to announce that I am the author of our family's downfall, and we have only a few days of dignity left," Mary said, and began suddenly to sob. Matthew's news had allowed her to think of something else for a few minutes, but she couldn't forget the afternoon's events for long.

Matthew tightened his arm around her. "It will be alright, Mary. The world is not the same place it was before the war; people have more important things to worry about than scandals from almost a decade ago," he said.

"But… about our baby. The news that the child who may be the future Earl of Grantham if he's a boy is illegitimate… society will love that story."

"We will inform everyone we know that you are pregnant with my child as soon as possible, and refer them to Dr Wilson or Dr Clarkson if they don't believe that it's mine. And if Carlisle writes in his newspaper that… that I am incapable of fathering children, then we will take him to court for libel, and we will win. Don't worry. Whatever happens, we will have each other and our family and our child. I love you so terribly much, my darling."

"As I love you," Mary said quietly.

Somehow, she didn't think it would be as simple as Matthew made it sound.

* * *

At Mary's request, Robert and Cora went to Mary and Matthew's sitting room an hour before dinner. Robert was filled with an awful sense of foreboding. He had been waiting for an explanation of what had happened to Mary earlier that day, and he dreaded hearing the truth.

They found Mary and Matthew sitting together on the sofa, their arms around each other, and wearing grim expressions that didn't bode well for what they were going to say.

When they were settled, Mary took a deep breath and began to speak.

"There is something important I need to tell you, about what happened earlier today. But first, Matthew has something to announce."

Robert and Cora turned expectantly to Matthew. Matthew thought it would be best to get this out of the way quickly so they could concentrate on the more pressing and important problem they were going to have to face.

"Mr Harvell, the elder partner in my firm, is going to retire, and they have suggested that I replace him. It would mean spending more time in the office and more work to do at home, and therefore less time for estate work. But I would like to do it."

Robert frowned.

"Don't think I'm not terribly proud of you, my boy. Of course they want you to be a partner, you are a highly intelligent young man, and, I'm sure, a brilliant lawyer. But Matthew, do you really think it's a good idea? You are my heir, for goodness sake! You don't need to work at all, although I think perhaps I am beginning to understand why you do. What will happen when you inherit? You can hardly mean to continue working then?" he said.

"No, of course not. But Robert, I hope it will be many, many years before that happens, and until then, I mean to be as useful and productive as possible. You do not need me here to help you manage the estate; you do that perfectly well and have done for decades. Mary knows as much about it as I do. And it will be like before the war; there are plenty of hours in the day, and there are always the weekends.

"When the time does come for me to become the Earl, someone else will replace me as I plan to replace Mr Harvell." He smiled. "I know this is strange for you, Robert, but I was not born into this life, and I enjoy my work."

Matthew stopped speaking, and looked steadily at his older cousin. Mary squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers back, grateful for the reassurance.

Robert seemed to be considering what Matthew had said. There was silence for a few minutes while he thought.

"I believe you're right," he said eventually. "You must do what you think is right. When you first arrived here in 1912, I wanted to change you, to turn you into one of us, to make you the son I never had. But I see now that you are a good man exactly as you are, and that you will the make the very best of Earls. I want you to be yourself and do what you need to do to make you feel useful and to make your life interesting. I would not want you to change in the slightest. If this is what you want, it is right that you accept.

"As for the estate, you are right, there are weekends. Not long ago I would have said that of course I can manage everything alone, as I have always done. But in the last couple of years, you and Mary have shown me that sometimes the old way of doing things is not the best, and your ideas have been invaluable. So it will be a shame if you have less time for it. But Mary is quite capable of communicating and implementing any new plans."

Matthew looked at Robert in astonishment. He had not exactly expected opposition, but he had not expected this wholehearted support and effusive praise.

"Thank you, Robert. You praise me too highly, but thank you."

"I do not praise you too highly, Matthew. You deserve every word of it."

Cora, who had been listening in silence to the conversation suddenly spoke.

"Robert, you say Mary will be able to help. But she is pregnant. She ought to be resting, not driving about the countryside inspecting pigs or whatever she does."

Mary sighed in exasperation.

"I am not an invalid. Hundreds, thousands, millions of women are pregnant at any given time, and they can't all afford to simply lie on a chaise longue all day. They have to work, or cook, or look after other children, and their babies are born healthy as often as ours are. I will continue to be involved in the running of the estate until I am too fat to stand. No, in fact, I shall simply give instructions from my bed or sofa."

"You sound like Sybil," Robert said.

"Sybil has opened my eyes to the world beyond Downton Abbey. I mean what I say," Mary said defiantly.

Matthew felt proud of his wife. She was so different from the proud, snobbish woman of 1912, and yet she had retained everything that had always made her who she was. He wanted her to look after herself and their child, but at the same time, he knew she was capable of looking after herself, and she was so very good at estate work.

"I know you mean what you say. As long as you're careful, and Dr Clarkson has no complaints, of course you must continue as long as you want," he assured her.

Mary smiled her gratitude to him. There was a pause before she spoke.

"Wonderful as Matthew's news is, there is something more important and… rather less pleasant to discuss."

Mary edged slightly closer to Matthew as her parents exchanged a look of trepidation and concern.

"Sir Richard Carlisle is back. He is living in Haxby Park. And… I believe it is only a matter of days before he publishes my story."

Cora, looking horrified, uttered a quiet 'oh!' and seemed to collapse against the cushions. Robert looked furious, and opened his mouth to speak. Mary held up her hand and he closed it again.

"I met him on my walk this afternoon. He asked me to leave Matthew, get a divorce and marry him. I refused, we argued, and now he is determined to hurt me. I doubt it will be tomorrow, but it may be the day after. And he is also going to claim that… that my child is illegitimate. So you see, it will be even worse than it would have been before." Mary clutched Matthew's hand tightly as she spoke, willing herself not to cry.

There was a horrible, stunned silence.

"Then we must work quickly," Robert muttered to himself. "We must tell as many people as possible that Mary's jealous ex-fiancée is going to publish scandalous lies about her."

"But Papa, some of it is true!" Mary interjected.

Robert shook his head. "We won't be specific about which parts are true and which are not. We may not own newspapers, but we know everyone who matters, so if we're quick, I believe we can convince Society that it's just because you broke off your engagement and he is jealous now you are happily married and expecting a child. Yes, I believe we can make him look ridiculous."

Mary and Matthew looked at each other. It had not occurred to them that there were other ways of spreading gossip than in newspapers.

"I'm going to telephone Rosamund," Robert announced, and he stood up abruptly and went to the hall.

Cora buried her face in her hands.

"Oh Mary, I'm so sorry," she said, her voice muffled by her hands. "I assumed… I accused you of… and now…" She broke down into quiet sobs.

Mary looked at her and sighed. "No Mama, it is not your fault. Sir Richard come to his own conclusion. You had nothing to do with it."

Nobody said anything then. There was nothing to say that would change anything. Mary's wrist began to throb and she began to massage it with her good hand. It had started to swell slightly, and moving it was painful.

Cora noticed, and frowned. "Mary darling, what did he do to you?"

Mary looked up quickly, pressing her lips together before answering. "He grabbed my wrist to stop me running away. It's painful, but bearable."

"Perhaps we should call Dr Clarkson?" Cora suggested gently. "It may be worse than you think."

"No, I'm fine, truly. It's only a little bruised," Mary insisted.

Both Cora and Matthew would have argued, but at that moment, Robert came in and sat down heavily in an armchair.

"Rosamund is delighted to help. You know she loves any kind of plot. She's in the middle of a dinner party and she's going to tell a few friends to start the rumours about Sir Richard's pathetic jealousy now, so it doesn't look as if it's coming from our family. She says she will act shocked and horrified if the rumours get back to her.

"Our closest friends already know Mary is pregnant, and we can trust them to believe our word. Rosamund is dealing with London. But as it's not the Season, there will be plenty of families in the country, and I'm not sure what to do about them."

"I don't think there's much we can do apart from hope Rosamund and her friends are good enough gossips to spread the word. But however bad it is, it won't last forever," Matthew said. He turned to Mary and said more softly, "Carlisle has no proof of anything, and you are a married woman now. Nobody cares enough to hold it against you forever. Things are different after the war. Most of the men… found comfort in Paris, and some of the wives found comfort closer to home." He sighed deeply, a slight frown creasing his forehead, and a haunted look in his eyes as always happened when he spoke of the war. "It was awful, but that is war," he said gravely.

"I'm so sorry," Mary said quietly. "I provoked him. It's all my fault."

"No," Matthew said firmly. "You must never think that Mary, never. Richard Carlisle is a cruel, manipulative man. You've done nothing wrong, darling." He pulled Mary closer to him, and after a few seconds, she began to sob into his shoulder.

Matthew looked at Cora. "I think we'll take dinner in here tonight, and go to bed early."

"Of course," Cora agreed. She rose from her chair and Robert did the same, and they left, knowing that Matthew would be able to comfort Mary far better than they would.

Neither Mary nor Matthew ate much, and they went to bed straight after. Mary had feared she would lie awake worrying, but her exhaustion ensured that she didn't, and she didn't have time even to think about what might happen the next day before she was asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

It was Carson who saw it first. With the footmen busy that morning, he was the one to iron His Lordship's newspaper. Usually, he didn't read any of it, simply getting the paper ready to take upstairs as soon as possible. But today, the words 'Lady Mary Crawley' seemed to jump out at him as if they were written twice the size of the other words on the page, although of course they weren't. His breath caught, and he debated whether or not to read the story. He decided against it, wanting to get it upstairs for His Lordship with even more urgency than was usually required.

He finished the job, and walked as fast as his dignity would permit up to the breakfast room. His Lordship and Mr Crawley were already at the table, with Thomas standing silently by the buffet table. Of course, whatever was in the newspaper about Lady Mary would soon become common knowledge, but Carson thought that this was one of the times when the family needed privacy.

"Thomas, you may go downstairs. I shall take over from here," he said quietly to the under-butler. Thomas scowled for a second, then realising there was nothing he could do but obey his orders, he left.

Although Matthew had been deep in conversation with Robert when Carson had entered the room, he had been on edge, waiting for the papers. When he saw Carson enter the room and send Thomas away, he knew the awful day had come, and sooner than they had expected. Too soon. Even Rosamund couldn't possibly have managed to spread rumours about Carlisle throughout the whole of London society in less than twenty-four hours.

"My Lord, I believe you should see this," Carson said quietly as he placed the newspaper on the table in front of Lord Grantham, opened to the right page.

Robert, who up to this point had been oblivious to what was going on, suddenly realised. He looked up gravely at Matthew, then looked down at the newspaper.

It was bad. It was a long article that took up a whole page, far more space than would usually have been granted to society gossip. Sir Richard obviously wanted to do as much damage as possible. First was the Pamuk story in lurid detail, then the announcement of Mary's pregnancy, then the suggestion that the nature of her husband's injuries suggested that she had yet again sought comfort and excitement outside of marriage. The article was well written, and made Mary seem like a selfish, heartless woman of no morals, caring for nothing but her own pleasure and comfort.

When it became obvious that Robert had finished reading and was just staring at the paper with blank eyes, Matthew, unable to wait any longer, reached across the table and pulled the paper towards him.

He looked at the paper, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the large picture that took up a good quarter of a page. It was a photograph of Mary, obviously taken a few years ago, probably during the war. She was smiling, but it was that cold, almost mocking smile that he didn't ever see these days. This was a photograph of Carlisle's 'cold and careful Lady Mary Crawley', not the real Mary.

As he read, he felt the blood drain from his cheeks and he understood Robert's blank expression. It was about as bad as it could have been, with Mary portrayed as a cruel and immoral person, and he as a pathetic, pitiable cripple whom she had married only because he was her father's heir.

"Well, we knew it was coming, but…" Robert said quietly.

"I know. But we will stand together and get through this," Matthew said, trying to convince himself as much as Robert. "I need to go to Mary."

Robert nodded, and Matthew went slowly towards the bedroom.

As soon as he entered the room, Mary knew from his pale face and grave expression that this was it. After almost a decade of being afraid this would happen, it finally had. By the end of the day, the whole country would know that Kemal Pamuk had died in her bed, and they would all think she had been unfaithful to her husband. She held her hand out for the paper, and Matthew reluctantly handed it to her.

It took her several minutes to get through the article. To begin with, she was too scared to be able to decipher the words at all, and they seemed to be just a series of random letters. As they slowly formed themselves into comprehensible words, she began to tremble, and the words were soon too blurred to read because there were tears in her eyes. She persevered, however, and managed to finish reading before she had to run to the toilet to be violently sick.

Matthew followed her, and tenderly rubbed her back with one hand as he used the other to hold her hair back.

"It's alright," he murmured softly. "It's perfectly alright."

Mary continued to retch, but she had apparently emptied her stomach, and after another horrible minute, she turned from the toilet and sat down on the cold tiled floor. She was shaking badly, breathing heavily, closing her eyes and trying to stop herself retching again.

The nausea was fading slightly, but the worry and the pain was not.

Then she took in what Matthew had said, and opened her eyes to look at him.

"You remember. I said that to you, those exact words. And I rubbed you back too, like you're doing now. When you were sick in the hospital," she whispered.

"Yes. I know. I remember," Matthew replied, still rubbing her back soothingly.

"I can hardly bear to think about it, that awful time. My engagement to Sir Richard had just been announced in the papers. I didn't know it would be, and Papa read it over breakfast before I had even had the chance to tell him I was engaged. I should have seen then how awful a man Richard is, but I was so grateful to him for saving me, I didn't think very hard about the fact I was committing myself to spending the rest of my life with him. And you were so sad and broken, and there was nothing I could do to help you except to hold you and rub your back and..." she broke off and shook her head.

"Oh my darling," Matthew said softly, remembering awful time, the worst few weeks of his life. Remembering Mary being there for him, her presence the only thing that brightened up his dismal days. "You were so calm, so positive, so strong. And yet… Oh Mary, you really are my storm braver." He shook his head. "I wasn't in much of a state to think of anything but my own pathetic self-pity. It's almost funny; I couldn't bear for anyone to show any pity for me, yet I thought of nothing else myself. And you were there for me, even while you were dealing with your own problems all on your own. And I didn't even know you were unhappy."

"You didn't know because I didn't want you to know. You had enough of your own troubles without knowing about mine too. You'd just been injured, and it was all so new and awful. You had sent Lavinia away, and your mother hadn't arrived yet, and everyone thought William would die." She sighed. "I suppose that however hard things are now, the circumstances were much worse then. You had resigned yourself to a life alone, and I was doomed to spend the rest of my life stuck in an unhappy marriage. Now, whatever happens, we have each other."

Matthew reached down and placed his hand on Mary's stomach. "And our child. Whatever happens, whatever anyone says, we will have our child."

Mary, still trembling slightly, slowly rose to her feet, then sat on Matthew's lap. They held each other close, and Mary became aware that her trembling had stopped.

"I'm frightened, Matthew," she whispered. "I know we have each other, but I don't know how to face the world now. We can't stay locked up here forever, can we? I'm going to have to spend the rest of my life looking people in the eye who know what I've done."

"Not what you did, Mary. What was done to you. How many times will I have to remind you it was not your fault? And we don't know yet how well Robert and Rosamund's plan will work. I know it's all happened quicker than we expected, but there's no reason we can't still convince people it's just Carlisle's jealously talking. Of course it won't be easy, but you will be able to face anyone, because you know you have done nothing wrong. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You must have faith that whatever scandal there is will blow over in time. I love you, Mary, and I promise you, it will be alright."

Mary collapsed against Matthew. She would need her strength later, but for now, while they were alone, she could just let Matthew take care of her.

"I love you," she whispered.

* * *

By lunchtime, Mary had noticed that the servants were looking at her strangely. Word spread quickly, even among people who didn't read much. They were all unfailingly polite, but she saw the looks in her direction, heard the maids whispering behind the door to the servants' stairs. Carson and Anna looked at her with concern, and while this was better than the awful knowing looks she was getting from the others, the thought of Carson knowing was awful. She knew he had always liked her above her sisters, that he had always thought the best of her. What must he think of her now? She had meant to tell him today, expecting it would take Richard at least a day to have the article ready, but now he had had to find out at the same time as the rest of the country.

She needed to speak to him. He had to hear from her exactly what was true and what wasn't. So after lunch, she went downstairs to his butler's pantry, ignoring the looks she got from the other servants, and knocked on the door.

He didn't look surprised to see her, and the expression on his face broke Mary's heart. She felt tears welling up in her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last twenty-four hours, and Carson was at her side immediately. He looked at her for permission, then held her in a fatherly embrace.

"It's alright, my Lady, cry as much as you need," he said gently.

Mary had cried enough that day though, and after taking a few deep breaths she pulled away slightly.

"I need to tell you the truth, Carson."

"You don't have to do that, my Lady. I haven't read the papers, and I haven't listened to malicious gossip. I trust that whatever this scandal is about, you are not to blame."

Mary sighed. "I do have to tell you. I owe it to you."

Carson gave her that look again and she bit her lip. "Then sit down, my Lady," he said kindly.

Mary sat, and Carson did the same. Mary took a deep breath to steady herself, then began to talk before she lost her nerve.

"When he stayed for the hunt in 1913, Mr Pamuk came to my room at night. I didn't invite him, but I had flirted shamelessly with him all day. I asked him to leave, and he didn't, and then I… let him have what he wanted. He died in my bed, not his own. I told Sir Richard so he could stop the story being published, and as payment, I agreed to marry him. I knew when I broke off the engagement that there was a danger of this happening, but when he did nothing, I thought I was safe.

"I met him yesterday when I was walking in the grounds, and I angered him. Now, he has published my scandal, along with the suggestion that my child is illegitimate., which of course is not true." Up until that point, Mary's voice had been calm and careful. Now, though, her voice lost its detached tone, and seemed to catch in her throat a little. "But… oh Carson, what a disappointment I must be to you!"

Carson looked distressed. "No, my Lady, no," he said urgently. "You could never be a disappointment to me."

Carson was struggling with himself. The idea that the old rumours about Lady Mary and Mr Pamuk were true disturbed him. Lady Mary was, in his eyes, a representative of the virtues of the aristocracy; elegance, beauty, intelligence, dignity, tradition…

But she was also a young woman, and back in 1913, she had been a very young and naïve woman. Lady Mary should have had every right to behave however she wanted without worrying about strange foreign men appearing at her door in the middle of the night. The stories made sense now that he knew that it had not truly been her fault.

For Sir Richard to have taken advantage of his knowledge of what had happened to blackmail her… well, Carson had disliked the man from the start, but this was beyond anything he had expected of him. And then to have published such a story out of spite, along with a lie that would follow Lady Mary's innocent child forever, was despicable.

"You did nothing wrong, My Lady," he said firmly. "I'm only sorry something so awful was allowed to happen to you in your own home. I knew there was something wrong about your relationship with Sir Richard, if you don't mind my saying, and I am proud of you for standing up to him and following your heart. I hope you know how glad I am that you are expecting a child, and that I would never doubt that you have been faithful to Mr Crawley. You are strong, My Lady, and you will weather this storm. It will pass, as all storms do, and it won't alter the opinion of anyone who knows and loves you."

Mary managed a half-smile. "I know I can always count on you for a draught of self-confidence whenever I begin to doubt."

"And you will always find one here," Carson replied gently.

Mary held back a sob, and wiped her eyes quickly. "Thank you Carson." She stood up, wiped her eyes again, then walked towards the door. Then she remembered something, and turned back.

"Carson, may I use your telephone?" she asked.

"Of course, my Lady. I need to go and check the silver. You may lock the door if you don't wish to be disturbed," Carson said, leaving before Mary had time to thank him again.

She sat down on the chair next to the telephone and stared at it. This was going to be another difficult conversation. She needed to tell Sybil. There was a chance Sybil wouldn't have seen the paper yet, and Mary knew she owed it to her sister to tell her the truth as soon as possible. But it was so hard. How could she tell her sweet baby sister what she had done? Sybil was so good, it felt wrong to tell her something so awful, which was the reason Mary had never plucked up the courage to tell her before now.

But it had to be done, and Carson's words made her confident enough to pick up the phone. She waited nervously as she was put through, then gasped when she heard Sybil's voice.

"Hello?" Sybil said cheerfully. She couldn't have read the paper yet.

"Hello Sybil darling, it's me," Mary managed before she had to stop to prevent herself from crying yet again.

"Mary? Is everything alright? You sound… worried. Is it-"

"Nobody's ill, nobody's died, and we're not facing financial ruin. But… there's something I have to tell you. I should have told you a long time ago, but… I'll explain why I'm telling you now afterwards."

"Mary-" Sybil began, but Mary began to speak before Sybil could get any further.

"Do you remember the hunt in 1913? When Evelyn Napier and the Turkish diplomat came?"

"Yes, of course I do. That Mr… whatever his name was, died in his bed. It was awful. I'll never forget," Sybil replied. "But why? What's that got to do with anything?"

Mary took a deep breath. "Well that's the thing, you see. He didn't die in his bed, Sybil. He died in mine."

There was a long pause, and Mary waited for Sybil to say something, anything.

Finally, Sybil just said, "Oh."

"I'm telling you now because it's in the newspaper. Sir Richard Carlisle's newspaper. Along with the suggestion that my child isn't Matthew's."

Again, Sybil was silent for far too long for Mary's nerves. Then she said slowly, "That was it. That was your secret. That's why you didn't accept Matthew's proposal before the war, and why you were going to marry someone you despised. Sir Richard was blackmailing you. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Yes," Mary choked out.

"That utter bastard!" Sybil said, so loudly that Mary wondered if everyone in the neighbouring flats had heard Sybil's exclamation. And suddenly, ridiculously, Mary began to laugh. There was a touch of hysteria to it, but it was better to laugh than to cry again. A moment later, Sybil joined her and they laughed together, separated by miles of land and sea, but together in that moment.

"Now, Mary, you're going to tell me the whole story from start to finish, as well as why you didn't tell me earlier," Sybil said when she could speak again.

Mary sighed, before repeating what she had told Carson only a few minutes ago, but with a little more detail. Sybil listened, interrupting every so often to swear loudly again, which made it easier for Mary to continue. When Mary had finished, Sybil was silent again, before saying petulantly, "I still think you should have told me. Why am I always the last to know anything?"

* * *

After speaking with Sybil, and being told multiple times that nothing was her fault, Mary felt slightly better. She and Matthew went to their private sitting room and sat together on the sofa, and while she was still terrified about what the future would bring, Mary could at least enjoy the moment. To begin with, they had tried reading, but neither of them could concentrate, so instead they simply sat in each other's arms. Mary tried to think of other things, and was successful until her thoughts turned to their plans for the next day.

"We've got meetings with some of the tenants tomorrow," she said suddenly. "Oh God, how can I ever face them when they _know_? We'll be discussing farming and rents, and all the time, they'll be looking across the table at me, thinking I'm a... a whore. And don't say that that isn't true, because it doesn't matter what the truth is, only what people believe to be the truth. I doubt most people would understand the distinction you draw between doing something willingly and being psychologically forced to do something. Rape to them is a man using physical force, and even then, when it is clearly not the woman's fault at all, she is still blamed by some people."

"Darling, they know and respect you and our family. And they must have seen us together enough to see that the idea of you being unfaithful is simply ridiculous. If they know that part of the story isn't true, perhaps they'll think the rest of it is nonsense too."

"But it isn't!" Mary burst out, tears in her eyes.

"The way the facts are presented in that article do not represent the truth. That fact that some of the facts are true is irrelevant."

"I can't go. I can't face them. I don't even know how I'm going to leave the house again now that…"

"You will leave the house with me by your side and your head held high, and the sooner you do so the better. In fact, I think we should go out today, to show the world that you are not ashamed because you have nothing to be ashamed of. We shall walk down to the village to visit Mother, and perhaps go in a shop or two while we're there. Tomorrow, we shall do exactly what we had planned and meet with the tenants. People will look at you, but their looks cannot hurt you unless you let them."

Mary closed her eyes for a moment. She knew Matthew was right; he usually was. But she wasn't sure she could do this.

"It will be alright Mary, I promise," Matthew assured her, and he kissed her gently. "I'll go and telephone Mother while you get ready," he said when he drew away. Mary nodded silently. She helped Matthew into his chair and went next door to look for her hat and coat.

Ten minutes later, they met in the hall. They had told Robert and Cora what they were doing, and while they had been surprised, they saw the sense in showing that Mary had nothing to be ashamed of.

"The whole of Downton village won't have read Carlisle's paper, Mary," Matthew said gently.

"No, but they will know someone who has. It is a small village, and they always know everything that's going on here, especially if it involves our family."

"They like and respect you. I'm sure it will take more than one article in a newspaper to change the opinion they have formed of you over your whole lifetime. I promise it will be alright."

Mary tried to let herself be reassured, but somehow couldn't.

"Well, let's go then," she said resignedly.

The weather was still fine for early autumn. Although it was not warm, the sun was shining brightly, and Mary and Matthew were both wrapped up in coats and hats and gloves, so they did not feel the cold. At first, it seemed to Mary almost as if the weather was mocking her misery by being so beautiful and cheerful. A thunder storm would have been more fitting; that is what would have happened in a novel. But she supposed that if the weather had been bad, they wouldn't have been able to go out, and it did feel so good to be out in the fresh air.

Telling Isobel was going to be hard. She knew she ought to have done it years ago, so there would have been no danger Isobel would read about it in the paper over breakfast one morning, as she may have done that morning. But she simply hadn't been able to pluck up the courage. She knew that for a long time, Isobel had not liked her very much, and she could hardly blame her; she had been awful to them when Isobel and Matthew had first arrived from Manchester, and then she had broken Matthew's heart by hesitating to accept his proposal. She just hadn't been able to bear the thought of what Isobel would think of her if she knew the truth. Now, she would have to face up to it.

Just before they went from the path to the street, Matthew stopped and reached out to squeeze Mary's hand.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes. You're with me. I can face anything with you by my side."

Matthew smiled and they continued on into the village.

It was nowhere near as bad as Mary had imagined. Nobody stopped and stared at them, or shouted insults. There were a few stares, but they were not unfriendly so much as curious. She supposed they were trying to equate the Lady Mary they knew with the cruel adulteress from the newspaper article. Nobody said a word to them, but they encountered the usual respectful raised caps and polite smiles.

Even so, it was a relief to ring the bell at Crawley House and be admitted by Molesly, whose demeanour was no different from usual.

Isobel was ready and waiting for them in the sitting room, and there was a tempting looking plate of cakes on the table.

"Mary, Matthew! Come and have some tea; it's so cold outside."

"Good afternoon Mother," Matthew said, accepting her warm embrace. Isobel then went to embrace Mary too, holding her for a fraction of a second longer than she usually did. Mary was grateful for the comfort.

"How are you doing?" Isobel asked her gently.

"You've seen the article?" Mary asked, knowing the answer. Or thinking she did.

"I haven't. Matthew telephoned this morning and told me not to read the paper until I'd spoken to you," Isobel replied.

"Oh," Mary said. She couldn't decide it this was a bad thing, or a good one. She would have to explain everything, but at least she would be able to explain it in her own way.

"Sit down, Mary dear," Isobel said, handing both her guests a cup of tea and a large slice of cake.

Mary sipped her tea, trying to decide how to start. She didn't want to tell this story for the third time that day, but it had to be done. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, then took another sip of tea. Matthew reached out and took her hand, and that was it; she couldn't maintain her composure any longer. A tear fell down her cheek, then another.

"I…" she began, then stopped, unable to continue. She closed her eyes, and then suddenly, she felt strong arms around her as Isobel sat down next to her on the sofa and pulled her into an embrace. Not even her own mother had held her like this since she had been an adult, only ever Matthew and Sybil, and it made Mary cry even harder.

"It's alright, Mary, take your time. You don't have to tell me anything now if you don't want to," Isobel said softly.

"Yes, I do, I…" Mary stopped and took a deep breath. "You need to know. It's in a national newspaper. I should have told you years ago."

"Mary, darling…" Matthew began, his heart breaking at seeing her so upset.

"No, it's true, I should have told you," Mary repeated. "Do you remember the Turkish diplomat who came for the hunt in 1913, and… died?"

Isobel looked a little startled, but said carefully, "Yes, I do."

"He… I…" Mary said, unable to finish her sentence. She took several deep breaths, opened her mouth to try again, then shook her head. She couldn't say it, not again, not to her mother-in-law.

"He raped her, Mother," Matthew said quietly, unable to bear Mary's obvious pain any longer. "He went to her room at night, uninvited, and told her that if she screamed, she would be ruined."

Isobel held Mary tighter and murmured, "Oh my dear girl."

"He died in my bed. While he was… His heart," Mary said quietly. "Someone saw us taking him back to his room, and… oh, it's a long story, and I'd rather not repeat it all. But in 1918, I had to tell Sir Richard Carlisle about it to stop it being published. He bought the story, in return for my hand in marriage."

"I had guessed it must be something like that, your secret," Isobel said quietly. "Because it was blindingly obvious that you had a secret that you considered too awful to tell. He blackmailed you, didn't he? That's why you were willing to stay with that detestable man for so long. But then he didn't do anything when you broke off your engagement. I assume he must have found out you're pregnant? Is that why he's published the story after all this time?"

"Yes, in a way. I met him yesterday. He'd had me followed or something, because he knew where I would be, and he knew… too much really. We argued, and I told him about the baby. And so today, he has told the country that not only did I seduce a Turkish diplomat, but also that I have been unfaithful to my husband in order to become pregnant." Mary closed her eyes.

Isobel was about to say that nobody would believe that, but stopped herself. Cora had believed it, without even reading it in a newspaper. The truth was that in trying not to raise anyone's hopes, Mary and Matthew had allowed everyone to think that Mary becoming pregnant by her husband was a medical impossibility.

"The scandal will pass," she said instead, deciding to be honest. There was no point pretending there would be no scandal, so they might as well face it. "It will be difficult for a while, but it's not as if you see many people who aren't close friends or family except when you're in London."

"Well we certainly won't be now!" Mary said, her voice verging on hysteria. "I doubt we'll be getting any invitations to parties or shoots or… anything for a good few years, and I expect I will suddenly find I have far fewer friends than I thought I had."

"That may be true, but you will discover who your real friends are," Isobel said.

"And we still don't know how well Robert and Rosamund's plan will work," Matthew reminded Mary. At his mother's inquiring look, he explained the plan to her quickly.

Isobel smiled encouragingly at Mary. "Then you may find that you have news reporters at your door soon asking for your side of the story, or that people will write to you sympathetically, knowing that you are simply the victim of that cruel, jealous man."

"We could threaten to take him to court for libel," Matthew said. "I've been thinking about it. We might not need to actually go through with it. I think if his office receives a letter from a respected law firm instructing him that he will face charges unless he prints a statement apologising for the lies the article contains, he may have to do it. He may own the paper, but nobody who knows anything about the law will advise him to ignore such a letter; if Robert took him to court, he would lose. Robert is the Earl of Grantham, he has power and influence, and everyone knows that you rejected Sir Richard. Besides, the burden of proof is on him. We wouldn't have to prove anything."

Mary couldn't help smiling. It was ridiculous, but she rather liked seeing the solicitor version of her husband. He was so assured and confident, and knew exactly what he was talking about. It was reassuring. "Do you really think it would work?" she asked.

"I think it's likely. I believe he has acted in anger without thinking of the consequences, and if we present him with the likely consequences, he will realise he has made a mistake. He may regret it already; he's not normally impulsive. He would not like to have to go through a public trial where he will be accused of printing vile rumours about a beautiful, virtuous Lady because he is jealous of her crippled husband."

Isobel and Mary, with identical looks of anger and exasperation, turned to Matthew.

"How many times…" Isobel began, but Mary's voice was louder.

"Don't you dare use that word about yourself or anyone else!"

"Well it's true," Matthew said quietly. "And in this case, it is probably an advantage. His being jealous of me is going to make him look rather pathetic."

"Even so. You know I hate that word," Mary said more gently, although there was still an edge to her voice.

"I think you're right though, Matthew," Isobel said after a moment. "He won't want that. And although nothing you do will be able to un-print those awful lies, you may get sympathy rather than disgust if the paper admits it was wrong."

Mary began to feel some hope.

"Perhaps," she said slowly.

"Anyway, you must try not to get too upset; it's not good for the baby," Isobel said gently, enjoying being able to say those words.

The mention of the baby lifted the mood and they all found themselves smiling. Mary and Matthew both placed a hand on Mary's stomach. Isobel smiled at how natural the action seemed.

They stayed a little longer at Crawley House, then made their way home. They didn't talk on the way back. They both had too many things to think about, and on top of that, they were both exhausted, Matthew because of the long day at work the day before and then the exertion of pushing himself to and from the village, and Mary because she was finding that pregnancy was just so tiring. There was nothing she wanted to do less than to have to squeeze herself into her corset and eat dinner with her parents, probably not getting to bed for many hours.

"Mary? You're miles away darling. What are you thinking about?" Matthew asked as they reached the house.

Matthew's question cut across Mary's thoughts and she looked down at him and smiled slightly.

"I was just thinking how understanding your mother was about… everything. Mama was angry and disappointed and… well, she said that night that she wasn't sure she'd ever forgive me for putting her through that. Granny was horribly shocked. Papa was just sad and disappointed. And Edith called me a slut and wrote to the Turkish embassy to try to ruin me. And yet you and Isobel accepted instantly that it wasn't my fault. She didn't even seem shocked."

"Well," Matthew said slowly, "I did have several discussions with her before we were engaged about your mysterious secret. When you told me, I didn't tell her what it was, only that you had told me. I suppose the fact that we were engaged showed her that it was something forgivable."

They reached the house, and headed straight for their rooms.

"Do you think Robert and Cora would mind terribly if we didn't dine with them tonight? I'm done in I'm afraid, and you need to rest darling. You must look after yourself, and it's been a hard day," Matthew said when they reached their bedroom.

"I don't think they'll mind at all, and I was about to suggest the same thing myself. I'll go and tell Mama," Mary said.

* * *

"Are you going to be alright for tomorrow?" Mary asked worriedly as she massaged Matthew's sore shoulders. He had overdone it, pushing himself all the way to the village and back without help after a long day at work the day before. Touring the estate was tiring enough in itself, and if he was going to start the day without being properly rested...

"Perfectly," he replied. "Are you?"

Mary was suddenly still. "I must say I am rather dreading it. It's one thing seeing people in the street, and quite another to have to discuss serious matters with them. It's taking long enough to get anyone to listen to and respect my opinions, because I am a woman. With this hanging over me, I have no hope." She lay down next to Matthew. "I am glad we went out today though. It wasn't as bad as I expected, and it was nice to see Isobel." She sighed and raised her eyebrows at him. "Although why you insisted on not letting me help you I do not know," she said sternly.

"Mary, I am perfectly capable of…" he began irritably.

"I know you are," she assured him softly, stroking his hair back from his face. "But you don't need to prove yourself all the time. I know what you can do, but I also know that you are going to be tired tomorrow morning, and we'll have a long, full day to get through."

Matthew sighed, but conceded the point. He didn't mind though. Any tiredness was worth it for the satisfaction and sense of achievement managing something like that on his own gave him.

"I promise tomorrow will be alright. For both of us," he said softly. "And I mean it: I'm drafting a letter to send to Carlisle's offices when we get home tomorrow, and once I've spoken to Jonathon and his father, I shall make it official and send it. And Carlisle will have no choice but to admit he made a mistake. We have had more than our fair share of difficulties over the years, but this one will be dealt with."

He smiled at her. "And think, Mary. You have had this hanging over you for almost as long as I have known you; imagine what it will feel like to be free. In fact, in a way, you are free already. Carlisle has no hold, no power over you any longer, and you need not worry about the scandal getting out ever again. The worst has happened, and in truth, it's not so bad, is it?"

Mary took in his words, and slowly, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. It was true. There was nothing more for her to fear. She had no more secrets. She had worried for so long that this would happen, but now it had, it hadn't changed anything that was truly important. She had her family, she had Matthew, she had Downton, and now, she had her child. Everything else was trivial in comparison.

"You are right," she said slowly. "It is over. Everyone knows, and the world hasn't ended. I am free."

* * *

The next morning, Mary felt better than she had in months. She didn't feel that familiar nausea, and began to hope that the horror of morning sickness was behind her. Remembering Matthew's words from the night before, she felt a wonderful lightness.

Anna was surprised when she came in the morning and found Mary in a relatively cheerful mood, considering it was only twenty-four ago that she had read the newspaper article she had been dreading to read for years.

But Mary's good mood began to fade as they approached the first farm. Mr Wood a rough but good-hearted farmer, but the thought of him knowing about Kemal…

But Wood turned out to be just the first of many of the tenants they visited to surprise her with their reactions. As it turned out, most of the farmers they spoke to expressed their support for her, and congratulated her and Matthew on her pregnancy, which was by now common knowledge. Only one or two looked at her oddly and didn't mention the article.

 _"_ _Mi'lady. I just wanted to say that we all know that what was in the papers was tosh,"_ Mr Wood said when the discussions about crop rotation was finished.

Then at the Smiths' farm: " _That bloody Sir… whatever his name was, a tosspot if ever I saw one, and I only saw him once, well he were never good enough for thee mi'lady._ " Robert stiffened at the language, and Mr Smith said quickly, _"_ _Mi'lady, I'm sorry about my language. It weren't fit for a Lady's ears. But I meant what I said all the same."_ Mary smiled. _"_ _It's quite alright I assure you. My feminine sensibilities are not so delicate that they are offended by honesty. Thank you, Mr Smith."_

And then at the next farm: _"_ _Nobody with any sense is going to believe a word of what he put in the papers_."

And finally: _"_ _He's only jealous, with thee being in the family way and all. We're all behind you, mi'lady."_

When they returned home, late in the afternoon, Mary felt as if she was going to fall asleep on her feet. Whatever she had said about wanting to carry on working for the estate while she was pregnant, she was beginning to wonder if she would have to do a lot less, or at least be careful what she did do. She knew it was only likely to get worse.

But when she was lying in bed with Matthew, their hands resting on her stomach as they began to drift off to sleep, she realised that she didn't mind. If she had to, she would do less on the estate during her pregnancy, and then she could go back to it when the baby was born.

She kept replaying everything the tenants had said to support her that day in her mind, and felt a sudden certainty that everything would be alright. She couldn't control what people in London or the rest of the country thought, but she had the support of the people who mattered. There was no longer a threat hanging over her, no longer a reason to fear the newspapers. Things might be difficult for a while, but they were only going to get better.

* * *

 _ **Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! There is no better motivation to write than to know that people are enjoying reading my story as much as I enjoy writing it.**_


	10. Chapter 10

The weeks following the awful day Mary's scandal was published were difficult, filled with a mad mixture of emotions that seemed to confuse everyone.

Robert was furious with the world in general, while Cora was sad, watching as Mary never once came to her for comfort or advice, and never once said anything beyond polite banalities.

A small dinner party that had been planned was cancelled because the guests all politely let Cora know that they couldn't attend for some reason or another. None of the family received any invitations to anything.

A few of Mary's friends telephoned or wrote, assuring her that they didn't believe the stories for a minute. Most didn't. A few times in Ripon and once in the village, men leered or whistled at her.

While the her morning sickness really was much better, Mary was still unusually tired, although that may have been entirely due to the fact she wasn't sleeping as well as she usually did. There was just too much going on, too many thoughts crowding her mind, too many confusing emotions, and all of it amplified by the hormonal upheaval of pregnancy. The world hadn't ended when her scandal was published, but it had changed. She could never be sure what people's true intentions were when they congratulated her on her pregnancy or said they were sorry about the newspaper story.

She was also becoming increasingly alarmed at her changing body, and twice Matthew had found her sitting on the bed crying, holding an item of clothing that she had just discovered didn't fit her anymore. He had tried to reassure her, but it hadn't worked very well. She was still barely showing and it was impossible to see any difference through clothes, but still it bothered her and she couldn't explain to herself, or to anyone else, why.

Matthew, with the assistance of his colleagues at Harvell and Carter, wrote an official letter to Carlisle's paper as he had said he would. He was actually quite confident that they would win if they took Carlisle to court, and he would quite like to see the man humiliated. It would be easy enough to prove that it was possible for him to be the father of Mary's child, and he was confident that legally, they could win the battle over whether the Pamuk story was true or not, as the burden of proof was on Carlisle and there _was_ no real proof. But that would only draw out the scandal and put Mary under unnecessary stress when she was pregnant, and winning legally would not save her from malicious gossip. Their best hope was that Carlisle, or at least his lawyer, would see that it was in his best interests to simply print the apology and retraction.

Other than that, Matthew felt as if there was nothing he could do. He held Mary at night, told her over and over that he loved her and that everything would be alright. But it didn't feel like enough. He wanted to protect her from the world and every unkind word or thought, but it wasn't possible.

And yet, through all the difficulty and the stress, there was hope. As Mary had said, it could only get better from here. However difficult things got, they didn't lose sight of the miracle of Mary's pregnancy. There was so much to look forward to, and they had been through harder times than this. This time next year, they would have their baby and the worst of the scandal would have blown over. In the meantime, they had each other and for now that was more than enough.

* * *

"It's worked! Mary, it's worked!" Matthew cried, brandishing the newspaper triumphantly. "It's here, the message apologising for the lies they told about you. Of course they don't use the word 'lies', but it's obvious what they mean to anyone with a brain. They use the phrase, 'misreported facts and unsubstantiated theories', but the very fact that this is printed in the paper makes it clear that that article was nonsense, and makes Carlisle look ridiculous."

Mary, who was still in bed, having just finished her breakfast when Matthew had burst into the room, sank back on the pillows and smiled. Thank God! No, she told herself, God had nothing to do with it. Thank Matthew, for it was his letter that had ensured the paper had no choice but to print an apology. It had been two weeks since the article had been published, and everything was already beginning to get better. Of course, the scandal would not be forgotten in the near future, and her reputation would always be stained by it, but she was married now and it really didn't matter to her as it would have done only a few years ago.

Matthew came over to the bed and Mary pushed back the covers and slid off the bed into his lap. They kissed passionately, both of them filled with joy and thankfulness for the success of Matthew's plan. There was nothing to ruin their joy now, and they savoured their moment of victory.

"What would I do without you, darling?" Mary said softly as they drew apart. "And in time for tonight as well. It will make things so much easier."

It was Edith and Anthony's wedding anniversary that night, and they were having a large party that evening. Loxley House was full of guests staying the night, but of course the family lived close enough that this wasn't necessary for them, and they were just joining the party for dinner that evening. With Edith pregnant, it was going to be a happy occasion.

Mary had been worried that it would be awful. She had worried that the guests might not even speak to her, and would look at her in horror and disgust, especially as most of the guests were likely to be old and traditional, since they were friends of Sir Anthony. But now, perhaps she would get their sympathy and kindness, as the victim of a jealous spurned suitor.

Aunt Rosamund had written the day before to say that hers and Robert's plan seemed to be working as well, and she had two friends who had been acquaintances of Carlisle's who had now cut him entirely.

The party would be a good test of society's opinion, and receiving two pieces of good news in two day made Mary hopeful that it would be a success.

* * *

By the time evening came and it was time to leave for Loxley however, Mary was rather wishing she didn't have to go. There might not be the danger of her being ridiculed and despised, as might have been the case had Matthew's plan not worked, but there would be gossip and whispers and stares. In addition, she wasn't looking forward to an evening of sitting around talking to boring old men like Anthony. She had come to grudgingly respect her brother-in-law, and she knew that he was kind and good and intelligent. But he was just so dull, and consequently had many friends who were also dull. Edith, of course, got on with them well, but then Mary supposed she must be considered popular and interesting as a young, pretty new Lady Strallen.

Mary had never thought of her sister as being pretty. In fact, she had teased her mercilessly for being the ugly sister. But since her marriage, Edith had blossomed, and even Mary had to admit to herself that her sister was actually quite beautiful. She felt rather guilty for her behaviour to her younger sister in the past. But that was all in the past now, thank goodness. Living in separate houses really had done wonders for their relationship.

Mary was brought back to the present by Matthew coming onto the room. She watched him come towards her in the mirror, smiling more and more as he got closer. When he came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, she shivered with pleasure.

"You look lovely as always," he said, running his hands down her bare arms.

"Do you think this dress is a good idea?" she asked, glancing down at her small but visible baby bump. Most clothes could still hide it, but she felt tonight as if she wanted everyone to see that she was proud and happy, and that she had nothing to hide.

"You will outshine everyone in the room," he assured her. "It's not like it's a secret that we're having a baby, and if it was socially acceptable, I would spend the evening talking about nothing else. I know things haven't been easy these past weeks, but I'm so happy, darling."

"So am I. I want everyone to know I'm proud to be carrying my husband's child. But… I'm still scared, Matthew. I hate it, but I am."

"It's alright to be scared," Matthew said, caressing her cheek with one hand as he placed the other on her stomach. "It's not fair that our wonderful news has been greeted the way it has. But now the paper has admitted it was wrong everyone will be doubting the story, and if we appear to be happy and confident, and are angry and scathing of Carlisle, they'll see that it was nonsense."

Mary took a deep breath and nodded slowly. She turned on her stool so she was facing Matthew and smiled. "You're right. We'll be fine." She smirked suddenly and added, "As long as Anthony's friends don't bore us to death by then end of the evening."

Matthew laughed, but then tried to look stern and disapproving. "Don't be unkind, darling. They are his friends, and this is his night, his and Edith's." But the way his eyes were glittering with mirth belied his seriousness.

Mary shook her head, then leaned in to kiss him.

"You don't think we could cry off and just… go to bed?" Mary said hopefully as she drew away. "Surely it's one of the advantages of pregnancy that I can say I'm tired and go to bed whenever I want?"

"We are not missing your sister's wedding anniversary dinner. We can leave early if you want, and there will be plenty of time for bed after the party. You must be patient, my love."

"You must know by now that patience has never been my strong suit. But you're right, I suppose."

They leaned in to kiss again, but were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Mary, Mr Crawley? Lord and Lady Grantham sent me to find you and tell you they're ready to leave."

It was Anna, and Mary and Matthew suddenly realised it was time to go if they were not to be late.

As it turned out, they were not quite late, but they were almost the last to arrive, since Anthony's friends were generally the type of people to whom punctuality was important.

Edith greeted them enthusiastically but politely, trying to show off her ability to be the perfect hostess to her family. Anthony stood behind her, seeming to enjoy watching her take charge.

They guests assembled in the drawing room before dinner. It was rather crowded, for although Loxley was not a small house, its dimensions were nowhere near those of Downton Abbey, and Edith, it seemed, had invited the number of people she had been accustomed to seeing at parties held at home when she was young.

When they Crawleys entered the room, however, the loud chatter slowly died down as everyone tried to look at Mary and Matthew without seeming to stare, as that would look ill-bred. Matthew, knowing that they were likely judging his ability to father children and Mary's virtue, forced a polite smile and sat with a carefully erect and confident posture in his chair. Mary, having always been accomplished at catching the eyes of a crowded room without visible effort, did so now. When she knew everyone was watching her, she placed her hands on her small bump and smiled. To the rest of the room, it looked like an unconscious and automatic action, but Matthew knew that it was carefully calculated.

Mary went over to someone she vaguely knew, Mrs Waterhouse, the wife of one of Anthony's friends from his (long ago) university days, and began a casual and light conversation. The rest of the guests began to talk amongst themselves again, and the moment of tension passed.

Mrs Waterhouse looked pointedly at Mary's stomach after a few minutes of meaningless small talk.

"I understand you are to be congratulated," she said with a smile.

"Yes. Thank you. Matthew and I are very happy," Mary replied carefully.

"How marvellous. And may I just say how very sorry I am about those _terrible_ stories about you in the paper. I understand you were once engaged to the owner of that newspaper?" Mrs Waterhouse asked, clearly trying to see how far she could probe for answers.

"Yes, I was, and he was not pleased when I broke off the engagement."

"But it is all untrue, of course, the stories?" Mrs Waterhouse asked carefully.

"I don't know whether you have seen it, but the paper printed a statement today, taking back the lies they had published, in order to avoid being taken to court for libel," Mary said defiantly.

"Of course, of course. It must have been so awful for you, and your husband too, especially the delicate matter of the parentage of your child being questioned."

"Well, it certainly was not pleasant to have lies about me and my husband printed in a newspaper, but we do not consider the parentage of my child to be a delicate matter; it is in fact very simple. My husband it the father of my child. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go and greet Lady Clayton."

Mary walked away feeling angry. She suspected that most conversation tonight were going to run along similar lines: seemingly well-meaning and polite questions and sympathy, designed to glean as much information as possible from her without seeming to be overly interested in vulgar scandal.

She suspected that Matthew would not be having an easy time of it either, and looked for him in the crowded room. First, however, she had to greet Lady Clayton, in case Mrs Waterhouse was still watching her.

As Mary had predicted, Matthew was not enjoying himself much. He had been talking to Anthony when two elderly and slightly overweight men, who turned out to be military men who had served as generals in the war, had come over to talk to their host. Then Edith had dragged Anthony away to meet someone, and Matthew had been left alone with them. He wondered why he had let himself be separated from Mary.

He found men like this irritating at the best of times; they had sat at desks and looked at maps and sent thousands of young men to their deaths, without ever being in much danger themselves. He was not stupid or bitter; he knew that it was necessary to have someone to make hard decisions in wars, and that the functions fulfilled by generals who stayed a safe distance from the front line were necessary.

But while there were certainly heroes who had not fought on the front line, he suspected almost immediately that these men were not like that, but rather, the old-fashioned generals who had attempted again and again to attack as if there were no such things as machine guns and barbed wire, never seeming to learn from the mistakes and losses.

Anthony had introduced the first general, a tall man with white hair and a moustache, as Lieutenant-General Hopwood, and the second, a shorter and fatter man with thin greying hair that may once have been black, as Major-General Osbourne, and they both looked plump and self-satisfied. They didn't look as if they had missed a meal in their lives, never mind spent months on the meagre rations the men had been forced to live on in the trenches.

As Matthew had expected, their first questions were about his service in the war: _'_ _What rank? Which regiment? Did you volunteer? When?'_ There were few things he would have liked to talk about less, but he could see no polite way of escaping, so he was forced to answer as politely as he could manage.

Then it got worse: _'_ _When were you injured?'_ was the next question. Matthew answered, then opened his mouth to change the subject, desperate to talk about something, anything else. He was interrupted by Hopwood.

"Our country owes you our thanks for your sacrifice. Amiens was the beginning of the end for the Germans..."

 _Well I didn't have much to do with that_ Matthew thought. _I was lying unconscious in a shell hole for most of the first day, and I didn't even know the rest of the battle was happening._ He didn't say anything, and tried not to show his discomfort and irritation. Surely it would be time to go through to the dining room soon? And where on earth was Mary?

"…so it was all worth it in the end. Every man killed or crippled was a terrible loss of course, but at least we can comfort ourselves with the thought that it was worth it," Hopwood finished. He placed a hand awkwardly on Matthew's shoulder and looked down at him with pity obvious in his expression, pity that was also reflected in Osbourne's eyes. Matthew wanted to jerk his shoulder away, wanted to hit the stupid generals, wanted to shout at them.

Because how could anyone still cling to the belief that it had all been worth it? How could they justify the mass slaughter of millions of young men, men with their whole lives in front of them, by simply saying vaguely that it had been worth it?

But somehow, he managed to maintain his polite smile, which was by now strained and tight and uncomfortable. He did not want to ruin his sister-in-law's party.

Thankfully, he didn't have to endure it for any longer. The butler came in, cleared his throat and announced that dinner was served. Hopwood removed his hand from Matthew's shoulder and gave him a patronising and obviously false smile. Osbourne's glance swept down from Matthew's face to his legs, the pity turning to a vague sadness mixed with distaste. He shook his head slightly and went with Hopwood in search of the ladies they were supposed to be taking through to the dining room.

Matthew stayed where he was and took several deep breaths. He looked down at his legs and felt the familiar disgust and depression rising up inside himself, accompanied by grief for all the friends he had lost and anger at the generals, and everyone else who had contributed to making the war happen.

He started when he felt a hand on his shoulder, then relaxed when he realised it was Mary's.

"Matthew, are you alright?" she asked worriedly. She had found him in a corner, his posture slumped, his head down, and clearly he wasn't alright. But she hadn't known what else to say.

Matthew tried to force a smile as he looked up at her. "Fine. Come on, I suppose we ought to go through."

Mary frowned at him. "Tell me." She knew there was something wrong; his smile did not reach his eyes and he still hadn't properly straightened up.

"Later," was all he could manage as a reply. Then he looked properly at Mary and saw that she too looked upset. This was far more effective than anything else could have been at dragging him out of his misery. "What about you? Are you alright?"

"Later," Mary said quickly. "You're right, there's not time to talk now; we need to go through. I don't think we're going to be next to each other at dinner either; Edith will be following all the rules to the letter."

"Well, it's a shame, but we didn't expect anything different, did we? We can get through this, darling. No, not get through it, we will enjoy it. Come on."

Dinner seemed to go on forever. Despite what Matthew had said about enjoying dinner, he found that he wasn't enjoying it at all. It took a lot of effort and energy to make polite conversation with the Ladies who were sitting on either side of him when his thoughts were occupied with other things. But he hid his feelings well enough that nobody seemed to notice except Mary, who kept casting him worried glances.

Mary, more accomplished and experienced at suppressing her emotions than Matthew, did so almost without thinking. She laughed and conversed with the men on either side of her, hardly noticing who they were. She knew that rather a lot of the guests were casting surreptitious glances at her, thinking she wouldn't notice. She wondered what it would have been like if the paper hadn't published its retraction of the claims it had made, and shuddered.

When Edith finally rose and signalled for the Ladies to go through to the drawing room, Matthew wished desperately that he could go with Mary, then make their excuses and leave. They had to get through this though; they needed to show that they had nothing to be ashamed of.

As it turned out, it was not as bad as he had feared. With the Ladies gone, the atmosphere was far more informal, and Matthew could sit and talk with the people he knew, and drink enough high-quality whisky to calm his nerves.

Mary, meanwhile, was spending her time being politely interrogated about her relationship and engagement to Sir Richard Carlisle and her pregnancy, by a mixture of old acquaintances of Anthony's and friends of Edith's. At each comment or question, she grew increasingly irritated and exasperated. She was tempted to go and stand on a chair and announce that yes, she was pregnant, and yes, it was her husband's child, and yes, she had been engaged to Sir Richard, and yes, he was an utter bastard who had tried to ruin her out of jealousy and spite.

That would hardly help the situation though, so she suffered in silence, keeping up her false smile and laughter.

When the men came through, the drawing room became rather crowded again. Determined not to allow herself and Matthew be separated again, Mary went straight over to him when she saw him come through the door. She was glad to see him looking more relaxed than earlier, although his smile faded when he saw how tired she was looking. He knew how much it cost her to keep up appearances constantly as she did, and he could see straight through her false smile.

"Darling?" he said gently when they reached each other. "Do you want to go home?"

"Honestly, yes, but we mustn't. It's too early, it will draw attention. Edith says there's going to be dancing soon; they've got a gramophone now, and want to show it off, I suppose. If everyone else is dancing, we can find a quiet corner and it will be alright. I doubt Mama and Papa will want to stay late anyway, so it won't be too long," Mary replied wearily.

At that moment, Edith called for attention and announced that they would all go through to the hall for the dancing. There was an excited buzz as everyone looked forward to the still modern and exciting concept of dancing to music from a gramophone, and the guests followed their hostess through. The music was already playing, and the room had been cleared to make a dancefloor, so couples began to dance almost immediately.

Mary and Matthew found a quiet corner, as they had hoped, and relaxed, away from other people's scrutiny and stares. For a while, they were silent, savouring the relative peace and enjoying the music.

"So tell me then. What's upsetting you?" Matthew asked after a few minutes. "Has anyone insulted you, or been rude or unkind? Because if they have, I swear I'll…"

"No, nothing so… obvious." Mary sighed. "But I hear one more gleeful comment about how _simply awful_ it must have been to have my name _all over_ the papers, and in connection with something _so scandalous,_ I shall scream. Everyone is desperate to know how much of it is true, but of course they can't ask outright, so they must be sly about it. And to think these are Anthony and Edith's friends too…"

Mary broke off and shook her head.

Then she raised her eyes to look at Matthew, the anger and frustration that had been there a moment ago replaced by concern.

"What about you? What happened earlier?" she asked.

Matthew didn't answer immediately. He pushed up on the arms of his chair, as if to adjust his position, although this wasn't really necessary. He needed a moment to think and decide exactly what to tell Mary. He lowered himself down slowly, his arms shaking with the effort, then looked up at Mary.

She laid her hand on his and squeezed it gently.

"Matthew?"

"I ended up talking to two older men, who had been generals in the war," he began. "And like everyone who served seems to do, they asked about my regiment, my rank, where I served and… my injury. And of course that's perfectly normal, considering they are military men, even if it's not exactly my favourite subject for conversation.

"Then they started on the 'it was all worth it' speech. And I didn't know what to say. It made me so angry. For God's sake, what was all worth what? All those men who died, on our side and the Germans, what did they really die for? Everyone talks about their 'sacrifice', but to me, it seems more as if they _were_ sacrificed, and by those idiotic, incompetent generals and hopeless politicians. So many men went out to France expecting adventure, because they had been lied to, been told war was all glory and heroism. But it wasn't, Mary. It was blood and mud and pain and death. And then there were the ones who were forced to go, because everyone else was dead or dying or crippled. Nothing can have been worth the deaths of all those young men, nothing."

Matthew looked at Mary, and she saw that awful, haunted look that came into his eyes when he thought or dreamed of the war. Thankfully, she saw that look much less often now than she used to, but she knew they would never truly be free of the shadow of the war. She was furious with the men who had brought up the subject and ruined the evening for Matthew.

"Oh my darling," she said softly, reaching out and taking both of his hands in hers.

"I'm sorry," he said, "This is hardly the talk for a party."

"Don't be sorry. They're idiots, those men, and right now, I want to…" She broke off and shook her head. "I think we should find Mama and Papa and leave soon; I must confess to being quite exhausted, besides wanting to be away from those stupid generals and all the horrible gossips here."

"You'll hear no objections from me," Matthew said with a sigh.

They found Robert and Cora sitting by the fire, and went over to tell them they were ready to leave. They both fussed over Mary, and despite her assurances that there was no hurry, they left almost immediately.

* * *

"Next time I am ever in the least bit excited about a party, will you please remind me of this one?" Mary asked as she lay back on the pillows with a sigh. She didn't think she had ever been so glad to get into bed with her husband.

"I will. But hopefully we'll have forgotten quite how bad it was by then," Matthew replied, pushing up on his forearms to look at her. He was on his stomach tonight, which was irritating as it was not the best position for comforting his wife.

"I do hope so. Do you think Edith and Anthony had a good time?"

"From what I saw, I'm fairly sure they did. That's what matters, I suppose."

"Edith always did love attention," Mary muttered. "It's so unfair: everyone was fussing around her and asking when they baby's due and congratulating her, and yet those same people were staring at my stomach and giving each other significant looks and whispering about me. We have our miracle, and yet nobody sees it as anything but a potential scandal."

Matthew reached out and gently opened her hand, which she realised she had been clenching into a fist.

"It doesn't matter what other people think. We know the truth. The gossip will die down eventually, it always does," he said.

Mary was silent for a minute, hoping he was right. Then she pushed her own worries to the back of her mind and turned to look into Matthew's eyes.

"What about you? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he replied, although his eyes told a different story.

Mary felt her anger rising. How dare those men ruin Matthew's evening? How dare they bring up the war at a party? How dare they talk about it as if it had been something glorious and heroic when they hadn't been at the front?

"Next time anyone says anything idiotic about it all being worth it, you should forget all the rules of etiquette and polite conversation and tell them what it was really like. Because either they don't know how bad it was, or they're deliberately not allowing themselves to think about it. They deserve to know what they helped happen, they deserve to suffer like every soldier suffered, they deserve to…"

"Mary," Matthew interrupted her. "Darling, can we just try to forget anything happened at all? I agree with you, but we're home now, away from them, and I… I don't want them to ruin our night together."

"Of course. I'm sorry. I'm just so angry, Matthew. But you're right, let's just go to sleep. They're not worth another minute of our attention."

Mary reached out and turned off the light, then lay on her side facing Matthew, taking his hand in hers as she settled down to sleep.

"Goodnight, my darling," she said softly. "I love you."

"Goodnight. And I love you too. So much."

They closed their eyes and began to drift off to sleep.

Suddenly, Mary took a sharp intake of breath.

"Darling?" Matthew asked, concerned.

Mary lay there, her mouth open, completely still.

"Mary, are you alright? You're worrying me."

Slowly, Mary closed her mouth and began to smile. Matthew could only just see in the darkness, but he was sure he saw her smile, and was confused.

"What is it?" he asked, completely bewildered.

"Bubbles. Sybil was right, it's like bubbles."

"Mary, what on earth are you talking about?"

"It moved. The baby moved," Mary breathed, then she burst out laughing. "I felt it move! Oh Matthew, it's like magic!"

Matthew joined in her laughter, partly from happiness, but partly from relief; she had had him worried.

"Can I… will I be able to feel it?" he asked slowly.

Mary laughed again. "Not yet. When it starts to kick properly. For now, I can hardly feel anything definite myself. If Sybil hadn't described the feeling to me, and if I wasn't lying down with nothing to distract me, I wouldn't have noticed at all, I don't think. Patience, my darling."

"Of course. But… oh Mary, it's really there, there's really a baby, our baby, growing inside you! Of course I've heard people say it's magical before, but this is…" He trailed off, smiling. He didn't need to finish his sentence for Mary to know what he meant. She kissed him again, both of them smiling even as their lips joined.

"It happened tonight to prove it's real, that this is really happening, and it's so perfect, no matter what Edith's stupid friends say. This is our baby, and he or she is letting us know that everything's alright. Everything's perfect," Mary whispered as they drew apart.

"When… when will I be able to feel it?" Matthew asked. It was so wonderful that Mary could feel it, but he wanted to share the feeling with her, wanted to feel with his own hands that his child was really there.

Mary thought for a minute. "You know, I have no idea. A while yet though, I expect. We'll have to wait and see. I promise I'll tell you every time though." She yawned.

"Sleep, darling," Matthew whispered.

Mary smiled and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling more at peace than she had in weeks. They were both asleep in minutes.

* * *

 ** _Thank you for your reviews of the last chapter! Every one is much appreciated_**.


	11. Chapter 11

_**There's not a lot of plot in this chapter, but I've recently re-watched Series 2, and, well, this is what happened. I hope you like it.**_

* * *

Matthew sat staring at the clothes laid out on the bed. His old army uniform. The sight of it brought back so many memories. Almost none of them good.

He remembered the first time he'd put it on and how he'd stood staring at himself in the mirror, seeing only a pale, grim looking stranger. He had thought then that he knew more than the others, that he understood better than anyone else what was coming, that he was prepared for it. He had dismissed anything anyone said about it being over by Christmas; even in 1914 he had known that even Christmas 1915 would likely be spent at war. He had been saddened by the positive and excited mood of the other men training with him, knowing from what his parents had told him about the Boer War that war was no game; the deaths, the horrendous injuries and the ruined lives. He had thought that he knew, or at least had some idea, how bad it would be.

But he had had no idea. Never had he imagined the scale of it all, the sheer numbers of names that soon began to appear in long lists, telling the country the fate of the heroes it had sent to France. Never had he pictured the piles of bodies, the bloodstained uniforms. He had underestimated the sheer awfulness of it all; the blood that was somehow everywhere, the mud that was deep enough to drown in, the rats and lice, the hunger.

He had known it would be awful to be an officer, to be the one who had to send men over the top, knowing that so many of them would never come back. But he could never have imagined how their faces would haunt him. He couldn't have foreseen how truly awful it was to meet some bright, cheerful young lad, hear about his home and his girl and his family, then watch him die.

He had never guessed that most of his friends from Oxford would end up dead or injured, and friends from his childhood in Manchester too. He had never thought that the sight of a letter would become so terrifying, as so many of them had contained bad news. And although he had thought many times about dying (it was impossible not to really, when one was surrounded by death every minute of every day), he had never considered that he might end up like this.

He looked down at his legs and sighed. If he wasn't looking at them, he would hardly believe they were part of his body. Once, they had carried him up ladders and over the top of trenches, had struggled through the mud, had carried him forwards even as his rational mind had told him to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Now, they may as well not exist.

And yet he was one of the lucky ones. He had survived, he was happily married, he had a good job, he was soon to be a father. There were so many veterans who were not so fortunate. He knew it was hard for many of them to find work, and they were living with hardly enough money to get by. There were enough on the estate alone, although of course Robert never allowed any of his tenants to end up in the kind of trouble wounded veterans in other parts of the country were in.

He reached out and touched the material. The feeling of it was so familiar, yet the memory seemed as if it came from another time, another life.

The nightmares had been bad for the past week or so, and he had woken up almost every night in a cold sweat, breathing hard, and with his heart beating horribly fast. It was always worse when he was on his stomach. Unable to move in that position, he would panic and it always took him far longer to calm down. He felt awful for waking Mary night after night, because however hard he tried to be quiet, he knew he always woke her, and however much he hated it, he always needed her. Somehow, she could always bring him back to the present and help him get back to sleep.

He looked up as the door opened and Mary came in. Her expression creased into a concerned frown as she saw the expression on his face and guessed his thoughts.

"Are you alright?" she asked gently as she came over to him. She sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to crease the uniform.

Matthew tried and failed to force a smile to reassure her.

"It makes sense to wear it," he said quietly, avoiding answering her question. "It's only… the memories, and… that's not who I am anymore, Mary. For a few years, I had to be the man who wore that uniform, I had to fight, and kill, and… I don't have to anymore. But of course I will wear it. To remember those who weren't as fortunate as me…"

Mary reached out and took his hand in hers. She didn't speak; she wanted to give him the chance to carry on if he wanted to.

But he just shook his head and said quietly, "I… I suppose I ought to get dressed. Is William…?"

"He's waiting in the sitting room. I'll tell him you're ready, shall I?"

Matthew nodded and Mary gave his hand a quick squeeze before leaving.

* * *

It had become a tradition in the past three years. The entire household would line up in the hall, like they had in 1918, and there would be two minutes silence to remember those who had been less fortunate than Matthew, Thomas and William, and had never come home. They knew that they had got off comparatively lightly compared to many other households; out of all the family and servants, they had lost only one hall boy.

This year, organised by Mary, they all had artificial poppies made by war veterans, the money made from their sale going to the Earl Haig fund for ex-servicemen.

Robert, wearing his military uniform, gave a short speech, looking grave. Then the silence began, and as he stood to attention, he allowed himself to remember those awful years of war. Most of the time now, it seemed so long ago, but today felt so close to November 1918. He thought of all the injured officers who had convalesced here, and thought how despite the fact the war had felt so close, he had never seen the worst of it. He had seen the officers who were well enough to move to the convalescent home, but he had never even seen the hospital when a new load of injured men had arrived, like his daughters had.

Although he kept his head still, he allowed his eyes to drift over to look at Matthew, William and Thomas, each of them in their uniforms, looking grim and sad as they stood (or in Matthew's case sat) to attention. It was like going back in time. And yet, at the same time, everything was so very different now. In 1918, he had looked at Matthew and been saddened as he had wondered about the future. Now, he knew he needn't have worried. Matthew and Mary were so very happy together, and now, there was hope for an heir. He tried not to let himself hope, knowing that there was an equal chance that the baby would be a girl.

But it was impossible not to hope. It had been the most wonderful shock of his life when Mary had so unexpectedly announced her pregnancy, and the first thing he had thought was of course that he was happy that they would have a child. Since then, however, the thought of an heir would not leave his mind. And even if this baby was a girl, there was hope of another perhaps. He could still hardly get used to the fact that he could hope for an heir. Never in his life had he been so pleased that a doctor had got something wrong.

He was so very proud of Matthew and Mary, and that had nothing to do with the fact that Mary was pregnant. Matthew had built a good life for himself with Mary, despite his disability. Mary had become stronger and more confident, warmer, less afraid to show the world her kindness. Of course the war had changed everything for them, but it had destroyed nothing.

Matthew sat straight in his chair with William on one side and Mary on the other. He spent the two minutes trying to remember the names and faces of every man under his command he had lost; he had come to see that it was not his fault now, but still, he owed it to them to remember every single one of them.

When the silence was over, he relaxed his posture a little, but other than that, didn't move. The servants began to file out of the hall under Carson's direction, and the family dispersed, but he stayed where he was, still deep in thought.

He rather liked the idea of the poppies, he thought, but at the same time, they were another thing to remind him of France, and there were already plenty of those today. He remembered the strange, hopeful beauty of the bright flowers growing amid the desolation the war had created. Once, he had pressed one in a book, meaning to send it home to Lavinia, wanting her to understand the strange and confused emotions he felt when he looked at them growing up out of the ruined ground. But he had suddenly doubted that she would understand, and the thought that she might see it as a simple token of his affection was unbearable.

So he had put it, at the last minute, in a letter to Mary, guessing that perhaps she would understand. And she had. In her next letter to him, despite the fact that they were both writing in an oddly detached and formal manner, calling each other 'cousin' in a ridiculous attempt to disguise their feelings for each other, she had added a paragraph at the end that was more emotional and honest than the rest of her writing. She had told him how it had made her cry, that poppy, how it had reminded her both of hope and life, and of all the blood that had been shed in the years of war. He had cried when he had read it.

He turned slightly to look at her, wondering if she remembered that letter, those feelings she had described that were so like his own. Her eyes had a strangely distant look, as if she were, like him, thinking of the past. He supposed everyone was doing that today.

He remembered that first eleventh of November, the armistice day, when the fighting finally ended for good. He remembered the shame, the depression, the hopelessness he had felt. It had been Lavinia standing next to him then, the idea of marrying ridiculous to him, and marrying Mary an impossible dream.

And yet here he was, three years later, alive and healthy, married to the most wonderful woman in the world, and with a child on the way. He found himself smiling, and wondered briefly if that was appropriate for the solemnity of the occasion. But no, remembrance wasn't just about grieving; it was about remembering those who had fallen, yes, but it was, like the poppies symbolised, about the fact that it was _over,_ that life was going on _._

So he allowed himself to smile as he looked at the soft curve of Mary's stomach. She was now quite obviously pregnant, and although she kept saying she felt large and ugly, Matthew thought she was more beautiful than ever. She seemed to glow with happiness and health, and she had a whole new wardrobe of stylish dresses, none of which she wore a corset with. God, he loved her.

Mary looked at Matthew, feeling his eyes on her, and smiled faintly. She knew this was a hard day for him, but he seemed to be smiling, which had to be a good sign. She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Shall we go to our rooms?" she asked quietly.

Matthew nodded slowly and they made their way back to their sitting room, where there was a warm fire burning. Mary lowered herself carefully onto the sofa and Matthew came up as close as he could.

"I can't begin to imagine how you feel," Mary said hesitantly, "But you must know, darling, that you can always talk to me about anything. And… I do know what it is to have lost friends. I remember my debutante ball and all the young men who were there and danced with me. And now, so many of them are gone. And I know it's not the same, but remembering the war is hard and sad for me too."

Matthew took her hand in his.

"It is hard for everyone. I don't believe comparing experiences is helpful. But you know, I feel oddly… I don't really know how to describe it. Not cheerful, not exactly happy, but… light, somehow. I'm sad for all the men who died, all the friends, and the memories from the war are… like something from a nightmare, except they're real. But that's all in the past now, and the present is so happy, and the future… well, the future is better than I could ever have imagined.

"I can't ever forget the war, or pretend to myself for even a moment that it didn't happen; I'm reminded every morning when I wake up and can't feel half my body, or when I see the date and remember it's the birthday of one of my friends who's… gone, or the date of a battle. And the nightmares… They're less frequent, I know, but I don't think they'll ever go away. But there's so much more to my life than memories from that time."

He looked into Mary's eyes and saw there were tears there. He reached out and stroked her cheek gently. She smiled, reached up, and put her hand over his.

"I love you, darling. And I am so, so glad you came home to me," she whispered.

"I love you too. And our baby," Matthew replied. "I… I think I'd like to change. It was right for before, but now… I just want it off, this stupid uniform. I'm not 'Captain Crawley' anymore."

"No. You're my Matthew. Shall I ring for William?"

"No. I expect he feels the same, and is getting changed himself. I can do it myself."

"Are you sure you can…?"

"I can manage."

"Alright. But I'll come. To keep you company."

Matthew smiled tightly and nodded, and they went through to the dressing room together. He got himself onto the bed, and allowed Mary to take his shoes off. He could do it himself, but it was far easier for someone else to do it. He began to undress, desperate to get his uniform off and back in the box it spent the rest of the year in.

"What do you want to wear?" Mary asked.

"You choose."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Mary said, a wicked smile playing about her lips. "Because if it really was up to me, I'd rather you didn't wear anything at all."

Matthew looked at her in shock, then laughed. He didn't know how she could do it, but his darling Mary could make him laugh, even today. "Alright, I shall amend my earlier offer. You choose from the selection of suits, shirts and ties in my wardrobe."

Mary felt a glow of happiness at making him laugh. She opened the wardrobe and looked at its contents and selected a light tweed suit and a red tie.

"I must say I prefer you naked, but if we really must go back to the family, which I suppose we ought to, I do think you look awfully handsome in this," she said, laying it on the bed where Matthew could reach.

"Well, there's always tonight. I can give William the night off, and I won't bother with pyjamas," Matthew said. He lay back on the pillows to rest for a minute (dressing without help was tiring) and held his hand out to Mary, who came to sit next to him. They sat in silence for a minute, holding hands and thinking.

Matthew sighed, and gestured towards his uniform, which now lay in a heap on the seat of his wheelchair. "I wish I could lock that up somewhere, and throw away the key," he said quietly.

"Well, it can be locked away for another year," Mary said. "But however much you hate it, it still makes me remember the night of the concert, when we all thought you were missing, probably dead, and then you just turned up at the back of the room. I thought I was going mad for a second, that I was seeing things that weren't there. And then I realised that it really was you, and… and then you sang. I'd never heard you sing before, and it was so beautiful. And everything, in the middle of the awfulness and chaos of the war, was alright. Because you were home and safe. So you see, there are good memories too."

Matthew nodded slowly. "You're right, you know. There were moments during those horrible years… It's easy to forget, but there were moments when I was happy. In London with Lavinia. Up here, with Mother and of course you, even though you weren't mine then. Even in the trenches with William and the other men." He shook his head. "I haven't been able to think about them until recently; I just wanted to forget every moment of those years. But now… it's distant enough, just about, that I can remember those times in between the awfulness."

"I'm glad, darling," Mary whispered.

They sat in silence again. Then Mary took Matthew's hand and placed it gently on her stomach. They both smiled.

"Do you know how insane it drives to see and feel you without a corset every day?" Matthew said, running his hand over her small bump.

"I don't know why. I'm fat," Mary replied with a sigh, putting her hand to her waist. She used to be so proud of her tiny waist, and now, she couldn't imagine it ever being that size again. Of course, she would rather be pregnant than thin, but she still found it strange that Matthew found the changes to her body fascinating and attractive.

"You're not fat, you're pregnant, and you're beautiful. And there's little point complaining about being fat now; you're going to get bigger, remember. And you will still be the most beautiful woman in the world."

Mary snorted. "And you've seen every woman in the world, have you? Ought I to be worried?"

"Of course not. And I don't need to see every woman in the world to make a judgement; you are perfection, and there is nothing better than perfection."

"Flatterer," Mary said, but she was smiling now.

"It's all true. Come here," he said, holding his arms out to her. She leaned back into them, and they kissed. Matthew's hands went back to their usual position on her stomach. The kiss intensified in passion, and their hands began to roam. By now, Matthew had taken off his uniform and was dressed in only his shorts and vest, and Mary was enjoying it.

Suddenly, they both jumped and broke apart.

"What…? Matthew began. Then his eyes widened. "Was that…? Mary, darling, was that…?"

"Our baby. Yes. Oh darling, yes! You felt it!"

"I…" Matthew broke off and shook his head, smiling incredulously. "Yes, I felt it. Oh God, it's… I…" His eyes filled with tears, and Mary reached up and brushed them away as they leaked a little down his cheeks.

He felt as if he were bursting with joy. He had been waiting for this since Mary had first felt the baby move. He had been putting his hand on her stomach whenever they were alone in the hope of feeling something, but every time, he had been disappointed. Yet he had never thought of how it would make him feel, and if he had, he knew now that he would never have guessed that it would make him feel like _this._ He suddenly felt like he was a father already, and the love that had until now been for 'the baby' was now for _this baby,_ this tiny person who was real enough to make his or her presence felt and to give him this happiness on the day he needed it the most.

"Apparently the baby doesn't approve of our getting rather distracted from the task of dressing. That was the strongest kick I've felt so far," Mary said smiling even as her own eyes blurred with hot tears.

She too had been waiting for this moment for so long, the moment Matthew could finally share in the euphoria of feeling their baby move. And it had happened today of all days, the day that was always so difficult for him. It was as if the baby knew.

They looked at Mary's stomach, then at each other, and laughed. Matthew pulled Mary close to him again and they held each other, sharing the joy, and feeling for the first time like a real family.

"I suppose I ought to get on with it then," Matthew said several minutes later, and he pushed himself up to get dressed.

"Am I a distraction?" Mary asked sweetly.

"Yes, but a very lovely one."

"But I suppose if we want to be on time for lunch, I ought to leave you," Mary said, preparing to stand up.

"No. I think I can resist you long enough that you can stay," Matthew said quickly.

Mary laughed and leaned back again, and watched him as he reached for his trousers. Oh God, how was it that he looked so attractive with every movement he made? She couldn't remember if she had always felt like this or if it was the pregnancy hormones, but she couldn't take her eyes off him.

"Mary, if you want to me to concentrate on getting dressed, you need to stop looking at me like that," he said, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Like what?" she asked innocently.

"Like you want to rip my clothes off rather than watch me put my clothes on."

"I'm sorry darling, but I really can't help it. You're just so… beautiful, and I'm afraid there is nothing I would like to do more than to rip your clothes off."

"Mary, please!" he begged. "We have to join Robert and Cora for lunch. It takes me long enough to dress myself as it is. It's going to take forever if you say things like that!"

"We could miss luncheon," Mary said without thinking. What was she doing? It was _the eleventh of November_ for goodness sake, and now all she could think of was making love to her husband. What was wrong with her? It wasn't that she wasn't sad for all the men that had died; she had known so many of them, and it had so nearly been Matthew. If William hadn't… then…

But still, whatever her rational mind told her, her body and heart did not agree. But no, she had to stop thinking like this; today was not easy for Matthew, she knew that, and whatever he said about feeling 'light', it was not right to pressure him at all today. She had to stop. Pregnancy was no excuse.

She was about to stand up and go over to the window to distract herself, when Matthew unexpectedly pulled her toward him and kissed her with such passion, she had no choice but to respond in kind.

Matthew had no idea what he was doing. Only a few hours ago he had felt awful; tired after sleeping badly the night before, sad for all his friends who were gone, guilty that he was still here. Now, all he could think of was how lucky he was. He was alive. He was going to be a father. And he was married to the most beautiful woman in the world, and she _wanted_ him. So really, it would be wrong _not_ to take advantage of this. He was here, he was alive, and he wanted to _live._

"Matthew, you don't have to-" Mary protested weakly.

"No, I don't have to. I want to. I love you, Mary, and whatever is wrong with the world, and whatever has been and will be wrong in the world, you make my world so _right."_

Mary sighed and began to tug Matthew's shorts off, as he began to undo the buttons of her dress. Matthew was right. This was so wonderful, so _right,_ and they were so lucky to have it, it couldn't possibly be wrong.

Matthew didn't even want to think properly about whether it was appropriate or not. He didn't want to think about anything except Mary. So he didn't.

It was a very different kind of lovemaking from what they were used to. They clung to each other, willing themselves to live in the moment. Their clothes were spread out on the bed and the floor, and their limbs were tangled in a tight embrace. They were loud and unrestrained, needing this, needing each other just to prove that they were alright, they were here and they were making the most of it. Perhaps some people might consider it wrong, but they both knew that the friends they had lost would not begrudge them this.

Afterwards, they cried, holding each other tightly, their bodies shaking together with sobs, as if they were one person, not two. They didn't speak, didn't try to comfort each other, but simply let their emotions rule them. When they stopped crying together, they pulled the covers over themselves and fell asleep almost instantly, both of them exhausted after the long sleepless night, and by their… activities that morning.

They missed lunch, and stayed in bed all afternoon, but neither Cora nor Robert minded this, assuming it had something to do with the date and the memories and emotions it brought back. Which was true in a way, although not quite the way they imagined.

* * *

When Mary awoke, it was to the sound of the dinner gong. She was confused to begin with, unused to waking up in Matthew's bed and having lost all sense of time. Then she remembered everything and sat up slowly. Matthew was still asleep, looking so very peaceful, she suddenly felt like crying. Today was such a hard day for him, and he had had such awful nightmares the night before, and now he looked so rested and contented. She would eat off a tray in here, she decided. Matthew couldn't wake up alone, not today.

She was just rising to ring for Anna from her bedroom, when she heard Matthew stir, and was immediately at his side again, stroking his hair as he woke up.

"Mmmm. That feels nice," he murmured.

"Good," she replied softly.

"What time is it?" he asked as he became more aware.

"Time to dress for dinner, can you believe it! Are you up for it? If not, I thought we could eat off trays in here, or in our bedroom?"

Matthew yawned, frowned, pushed himself up on his elbows, then grimaced suddenly and lay down flat again. Memories of what they had been doing before they fell asleep came back to him, and he realised he was paying the price for their earlier passion; his back was stiff.

"Darling?" Mary asked, alarmed at the pained grimace he still wore.

"I'm afraid my back does not approve of our earlier… activities," he said, smirking slightly. The pain was gone now he was still again.

Mary managed a slight smile, but still looked worried. "I take it we're not getting up for dinner then?"

Matthew thought for a minute. He did like it when he and Mary ate together in bed, and it was a rare occurrence. But he was very aware that they had spent practically the whole day in bed, and he did rather want to return to the real world, for an hour or so at least. He began to push himself up more slowly, and Mary quickly put her arm behind his back to help him raise himself to a sitting position. He leaned back against the headboard and stretched carefully, sighing when he realised the pain wasn't too bad.

"Actually, I would quite like to get up. We've barely seen Robert and Cora. I don't want them to think I'm a sobbing wreck who can't leave his room. Although I am not wearing that blasted uniform," he said.

"And your back?" Mary asked.

"It's not too bad. I think I just moved too quickly earlier. I'll just be careful dressing, and I should be fine."

"Alright. Shall I ring for William?"

Matthew nodded. "But you need to do something about this mess before he gets here. William is my closest friend, but I don't think even he needs to see such obvious evidence of what we were doing earlier."

Mary blushed slightly and quickly placed Matthew's clothes in a neat pile on his chair, then gathered her own, before pulling the bell cord.

"I'll see you when we're dressed then," she said, before going next door to the bedroom to ring for Anna.

* * *

Matthew could tell that Robert and Cora were being careful with him. They talked cautiously about the ceremony earlier, and didn't mention the fact that he and Mary had disappeared for hours afterwards. Cora was watching him as if she thought he might break down in tears any minute, and in a way, it was almost amusing. Almost, but not really.

The truth was, he was still feeling that lightness he had felt earlier, although it was now combined with childish excitement after feeling the baby kick, and desire for Mary. He was wondering if there was anything he could do to make the baby kick again and was looking forward to when they could retire.

At the same time though, he didn't want to worry Robert, and he didn't like the way Cora was looking at him. He couldn't bear to seem to confirm what she already thought about his mental state. Sometimes he did still feel weak and pathetic for still having nightmares after all this time, and there were still days when it would suddenly strike him how different his life was from how it could have been; when he saw someone riding a bike, or a horse, or when he thought of things his father had done with him that he would never be able to do with his child. But he was not emotionally fragile and depressed like he knew he had been when he had first been injured, and he didn't want to appear so.

Mary, desperate to be alone with Matthew again, and wanting to be lying still in the hope of feeling another kick, couldn't concentrate on what her parents were saying, and answered automatically and briefly. Why was it taking so long to eat dinner? Surely they weren't usually at the table this long?

When Cora finally stood up to leave the table though, Mary found she didn't want to go. Going would mean leaving Matthew, and having no control over when her father would decide it was time to re-join the ladies. She sighed and stood up slowly. She squeezed Matthew's shoulder as she walked past him, holding him a little longer than usual, then followed her mother into the drawing room.

"Mary dear, come and sit next to me," Cora said, gesturing to a spot next to her on the sofa.

Mary complied.

"You seemed rather distracted during dinner," Cora began, her innocent tone of voice belied by the sharp look she gave Mary. "Matthew too."

Mary could feel her cheeks getting hot. Yes, they certainly had been distracted.

"Where were you all day?" Cora asked.

"We were in our rooms. We… didn't feel like doing much. We rested," Mary said, trying to sound innocent. It wasn't as if she was lying, only omitting certain details her mother would not wish to know anyway.

Cora looked at her compassionately. "I suppose it's a hard day for Matthew."

"Yes. I think it's hard for everyone who knows men who died, which is everyone in the country, practically. But yes, it's even harder for the men who were there," Mary said quietly.

"I hope he's not too upset?" Cora asked carefully.

"Of course he's upset, but he's fine, much better than he was last year, or the year before, or the year before that. We just were just happy to stay in our suite."

"We were worried, you know," Cora said.

"Everything's alright, Mama. We are alright. We had a perfectly… pleasant day," Mary said. If only Mama knew quite how pleasant…

In the dining room, Matthew and Robert sat in silence for several minutes after Mary and Cora left. Matthew could feel Robert's eyes on him, but he didn't look up to meet his gaze.

"It's hard to believe it's been three years," Robert said eventually.

Matthew nodded, looking down at his brandy.

"I find myself wondering if the world will ever properly recover," Robert continued. "Everything is so different now."

"Yes, so much has changed. But not every change is for the worse, Robert," Matthew said quietly.

Robert sighed. "You're right, and I am beginning to see that. But it's hard to see it today. Matthew, I… I hope you know how proud I am of you. And Mary. You face this new world bravely, and you are teaching me how to face it too. You have faced more than your fair share of difficulties, yet you carry on, and you've built a good life together."

Matthew felt his cheeks getting hot. "Robert, I…"

"I mean it. You, Mary, Sybil, Edith… you make me believe that perhaps the world can heal, that the future is what matters." Robert took a sip of brandy and looked seriously at Matthew. "Are you… alright? Cora and I wondered, when you and Mary disappeared after the ceremony…"

"I… it still hurts to think about it. I think it always will. But today is about remembering the end of it all. It's over. Maybe it should never have happened, maybe it was all for nothing, but there's nothing to be gained from thinking like that. It's over, and the world is moving on. I'm as alright as I can be, I think."

Robert reached out and awkwardly squeezed Matthew's shoulder.

They didn't linger long in the dining room, and then retired early.

Mary and Matthew lay still and silent for what seemed like hours waiting for the baby to kick again. Nothing happened. Eventually they gave up, and settled down to sleep properly. It might happen tomorrow, they told themselves.

"The baby's inherited your stubbornness," Mary murmured as she started to fall asleep.

"And yours," Matthew replied. "You can't deny it's a trait we share."

"Hmmm. Maybe. But you love me anyway."

"Madly. Come here," he said, gently pulling her closer, needing suddenly to kiss her. She pushed up on one arm and leaned over, smiling as he raised his head from the pillow slightly and their lips met. He reached for her hair with one hand and allowed the other to drift to her stomach. They were sleepy, and their kiss was sweet rather than passionate, but beautiful all the same.

Then, as he had that morning, Matthew felt the odd sensation of the baby's kick against his hand. They drew away from the kiss, smiling. The joy they had felt earlier that day was muted now by tiredness, for it must have been past midnight, but the moment was beautiful in a different way, calmer and more comfortable.

"Maybe the baby likes it when we kiss," Matthew suggested as Mary settled down on the pillows again. "Perhaps we should do it more often."

Mary laughed softly. "Nice try, darling. The baby doesn't know what we're doing. And you can't possibly be complaining that you don't get enough kisses."

"There's no such thing as enough."

"Hmmm. Well, there is such a thing as enough for tonight. Your little Sea Monster spawn is tiring me out. I'm going to sleep."

Matthew watched her drift to sleep. It was odd that what had begun as the most difficult day of the year had ended with this, a moment of pure contentment. The eleventh of November would now be the anniversary of something else, something that would bring him far pleasanter memories in the future.

He had no nightmares that night, and for the first time in over a week, he and Mary slept peacefully until morning.

* * *

 _ **Please let me know what you think. All reviews are very, very much appreciated.**_


	12. Chapter 12

**_I'm sorry it's taken me rather longer to write this chapter than I would have liked. Life is a bit hectic at the moment._**

 ** _Thank you for follows, favourites and of course for all the lovely reviews - they are always the best motivation!_**

 ** _I hope you continue to enjoy the story._**

* * *

Mary sat down heavily on a bench. She didn't usually sit at railway stations, but she tired more easily now, and she was rather early; it could be ten minutes or more before Rose's train arrived.

It would be odd having Rose living with them; Mary was accustomed now to living with just Matthew and her parents. She loved Rose, and was in some ways looking forward to having someone else in the house. But Rose was so full of life, and could be rather hard work. At least when she had come to stay last summer Sybil had been there, and Sybil had always been much closer to Rose than Mary or Edith.

Mary predicted that keeping track of her cousin was going to be rather difficult, and would likely cause her parents no small amount of stress. She would not be able to keep up with Rose in her condition, and she was increasingly busy with estate work since Matthew had less time for it now. He was taking on more and more responsibility at the firm now that Mr Harvell was retiring and training him for his role as a partner. It would fall to her parents to try to stop Rose creating some sort of scandal.

Edith might help, but Mary doubted she would be much use. Edith had become the type of pregnant woman who rather exasperated her; she spent hours lying on a chaise longue with her embroidery, or boring other people with descriptions and complaints about her condition or discussions about baby names.

It was because some women behaved like that that everyone was so sure she was incapable of doing anything just because she was carrying a child. Even Matthew, who had said she should do whatever she wanted and that she was essential to the running of the estate, had begun to fuss constantly, and Papa was even worse. He acted as if she might break at any moment, and needed to be carefully protected. Even Carson was becoming irritating, something Mary had never thought would happen. If only women like Edith wouldn't make such a fuss, perhaps the men wouldn't be so over-protective.

Well, it didn't matter. She was going to carry on doing what she wanted for as long as she wanted, whatever anyone said. Perhaps Rose would be an ally.

She looked up as she heard the distant sound of the train approaching. She rose to her feet and stood waiting for the train to reach the station; if she was going to have Rose as her ally in the argument about what she could and couldn't do in her condition, it would be best to greet her standing up.

The train stopped, and everyone on the platform was engulfed in clouds of white steam, and it was a while before Mary heard Rose shouting her name. She turned and saw her cousin half running towards her, drawing the attention of everyone on the platform. _And so it begins,_ Mary thought.

The first thing Rose did was place her hands on Mary's stomach. If it had been anyone else, Mary would have been angry. But somehow she found it as difficult to be angry with Rose as with Sybil.

"Oh Mary, it's so good to see you again! You look lovely. I can't believe you're pregnant! Did you know when you were at Duneagle? Yes, you must have done. Why didn't you tell us? I can hardly believe you and Edith are pregnant at the same time, when you've both been married ages. How is it you're pregnant anyway? Sybil told me…"

"Rose, for God's sake keep your voice down! This is not a conversation to be had at a train station," Mary hissed, looking around to see if anyone was listening and finding to her relief that there was nobody standing near them. She took a deep, calming breath and said quietly, "I know what Sybil told you, although I'm not sure why she thought it was alright to discuss something so private without asking me." She paused and allowed herself a small smile. "But the doctors were wrong."

"Oh, it's so… miraculous!" Rose burst out. "I'm going to be there for when your baby is born, and Edith's. I can't wait, I love babies. I'm going to be their favourite cousin."

Mary smiled, but decided it was time to go to the car before Rose said anything else she would rather wasn't heard by everyone on the platform.

* * *

"Welcome, Rose dear," Cora said affectionately when Rose all but jumped out of the car.

"Hello, Cousin Cora. And I'm so grateful to you for having me to stay, truly. I'm not sure where I'd have gone otherwise, and I've always loved it here," Rose said earnestly.

"You must know you're always welcome," Robert said. He had a soft spot for his wild younger cousin, however much he disapproved of her conduct at times.

"Come inside, it's cold out here," Cora said. "Would you like to go up to your room before tea? You must be tired after the journey. Your bags are being taken up."

"Yes, I think I will, thank you," Rose replied.

"I'll show you up to it," Mary offered. "It's my old room, since it's bigger and nicer than the one you had last summer, and you're staying longer this time."

"No Mary, let someone else. You don't need to walk up all those stairs for no reason," Robert said quickly.

Mary glared at him.

"I assure you, I am perfectly capable of walking upstairs, Papa. If our rooms weren't on the ground floor, I'd be going up and down them several times a day; Edith does."

"I know, but you must be _careful,"_ Robert insisted.

Mary rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored him. She gestured for Rose to follow her and went upstairs, walking faster than she usually would have done to prove to her father that she could manage perfectly well. Rose followed, smiling.

When they reached the bedroom, Mary sat down on the first chair she saw, slightly out of breath.

"I think I walked a bit too fast then. But honestly, it's driving me insane, all the fussing. But you don't want to hear all of that. Here's your room."

Rose looked around, then flopped down on the bed with a sigh.

"It's so lovely here. I remember this room from when I used to visit when I was a child. You seemed so grown up; I still slept in the nursery. It's hardly changed."

Mary looked around. Rose was right. It hadn't changed in years. But it seemed now as if it had belonged to another person. There was nothing here that made it feel like hers, and although that was rather a strange feeling, she was glad; her life was with Matthew now.

"Is it uncomfortable?" Rose asked suddenly, cutting across Mary's thoughts.

"What?"

"Being pregnant. It certainly _looks_ uncomfortable."

"Not really. Or at least, not at the moment. The first few months weren't much fun, and in the last couple of months it gets rather uncomfortable, if Sybil is to be believed. But now… it's wonderful. The baby kicks sometimes, and that is the most wonderful feeling there is."

"Can I feel it?" Rose asked, wide-eyed and excited.

"It doesn't kick all the time. You wouldn't feel anything now. But I'll tell you when it happens next, I promise."

"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?"

Mary laughed. "I'm afraid I seem to lack the certainty other women seem to have about the sex of their child. I have no idea whatsoever. Everyone's hoping for a boy, and I suppose I am too, but I just want a healthy baby."

It was good to talk to someone new about it all, someone who was not irritatingly overprotective like Papa and Matthew, obsessed with the medical aspects of it all like Isobel, or annoyingly knowing like Mama and Edith. She wrote to Sybil, but it wasn't the same as actually having her here.

"You and Matthew will make such good parents. You love each other so much," Rose said quietly. "I hope… I want to be loved like that one day."

"I hope you find someone one day. But you are so young, Rose. You have most of your life ahead of you. You aren't even officially out yet." Mary paused for a moment. "Is there anyone…?"

Rose sighed. "No."

"What about Charlie Graham?" Mary asked with a smile.

Rose blushed. "No. That was… a childish crush."

"It was only a few months ago you blushed every time anyone said his name," Mary said, raising her eyebrows.

"I know. But I've grown up a lot in the last few months. I don't live with Mummy and Daddy anymore."

Mary smiled and shook her head. Rose had literally left her 'Mummy and Daddy' that morning.

"I think we ought to go down for tea. If I stay up here much longer, either Papa or Carson will send up a search party."

Rose giggled, and they went down to join Cora and Robert for tea.

* * *

Despite Rose's initial excitement at arriving at Downton, it didn't take her long to realise that everyone was not going to devote themselves to her amusement. Cousin Cora spent her time paying calls to the neighbours and to Edith, or sitting on her chaise longue with her embroidery, or doing some sort of dull charity work. Cousin Robert, Mary and Matthew (when he wasn't at work) seemed to spend all their time either driving around the estate or shut up in the library or the study with maps and papers. And when they weren't busy, Mary and Matthew would disappear off together to their private rooms.

She soon determined that she had to find something to occupy her. Of course, Mummy would tell her to occupy herself with her embroidery or practising the piano. But Mummy wasn't here. She decided the best plan was to try to persuade Mary to let her be involved in all the estate work that seemed to occupy everyone so much. So one morning, when Mary was getting ready to go out with Robert, Rose went into Mary's bedroom and asked if she could join them.

"Oh, do let me come!" Rose pleaded looking at Mary with wide, longing eyes.

" _Why_ do you want to come Rose?" Mary asked, looking in the mirror of her dressing table to adjust her hat and hair.

"Because… well, it's so dull here. Cousin Cora's going to visit Edith, Matthew's at work and you and Cousin Robert are going out together. There's nothing to do here on my own, and I don't want to go to drink tea and talk about baby names and back pain with Edith. And I think it's amazing how involved you are with the estate. I don't know anything about how it all works. Please?"

Mary sighed and rose from her dressing table. She could at least understand why Rose wouldn't want to go to visit Edith, and she supposed it would be rather dull in the house alone. Besides which, she wondered if it might not be safer to keep an eye on Rose.

"Alright. But only on the condition that you support me if Papa starts fussing," she said eventually.

"Oh Mary, thank you!" Rose cried, and she flung her arms around her older cousin. Mary rolled her eyes, but Rose didn't see.

Robert was rather surprised when Rose, dressed in warm outdoor clothes, followed Mary out to the car.

"I hope you don't mind me coming along, Cousin Robert," Rose said sweetly. "I just feel I should get to know the estate a little better since I'll be living here for the foreseeable future. I promise I won't get in the way."

"You're welcome to join us, Rose, but I'm not sure how interesting you'll find it," Robert replied, rather bemused.

Rose flashed him a bright smile, and they got into the waiting car.

Robert soon began to suspect it had been Mary's idea to let Rose come along, because when he expressed his concern at Mary getting out of the car to walk around some fields with him and one of the tenants, Rose cast a quick glance at Mary before trying to persuade him that Mary was perfectly capable of walking the short distance. It was hard enough to win an argument with Mary on her own, but with Rose supporting her, he had no chance.

Although she would never have let it show, Rose was soon bored with the tedious conversations about grain and pigs and repairs. She had not expected it to be exciting, exactly, but she hadn't been prepared for it to be quite so dull. She was irritated that none of the tenants seemed to be very interested in her, even though she had dressed carefully and had one of the maids do her hair in what she knew was a flattering style. They all seemed more interested in what Mary and Robert were talking to them about, and she was surprised at how much Mary seemed to be liked and respected; she didn't know many women who did this kind of thing.

She was beginning to become well and truly bored, when everything suddenly became much more interesting.

They stopped at a large farmhouse and were greeted by a tired looking middle aged woman and a young man. A very handsome young man, who was looking at her in awe. Finally, someone had really noticed her.

When she stepped out of the car, Rose made sure to do it as elegantly as possible, and she walked across the muddy farmyard carefully, swaying her hips slightly. She was glad to see the young man was watching her still.

She followed Mary into the house and looked around. It was shabby, but clean and tidy, and there was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. They went into what looked like the parlour and sat down. She was introduced to Mrs Harris and Edward, the handsome young man who was still staring at her. Far from being bored, she could hardly contain her excitement as Edward (or Eddie as his mother called him) continued to watch her while Mary, Robert and Mrs Harris looked at some maps and papers and discussed things Rose didn't bother trying to understand. She wished they could talk, but Eddie seemed to have to engage with the discussion, and Rose realised slowly that Mrs Harris was a widow, and that she and Eddie were running the farm together.

When Robert and Mary stood up to leave, Rose decided suddenly that she didn't want this to be the last time she spoke to Eddie Harris. She left her gloves behind a cushion, making sure than nobody saw her doing so.

* * *

When Mary had returned from the drive around the estate with Robert and Rose, and Matthew was home from work, they went to their room to lie down until it was time to dress for dinner. This had become their favourite part of the day since Matthew had started to work more days and longer hours, as they could be alone and could tell each other about their day. Sometimes they just talked, sometimes they read, sometimes they slept, and sometimes they made love, but often, it was enough just to lie there together, happy just to be with each other.

"Rose came with us today," Mary said after they had been lying in contented silence for a few minutes.

"What, around the estate?" Matthew said, raising his eyebrows in surprise; estate work did not strike him as the sort of thing that would interest Rose.

"Yes. I think she's bored. But she might start coming more often now; she seemed very interested in Eddie Harris."

"Oh God, not another of Rose's silly crushes. But Eddie's sensible enough that it shouldn't cause too much trouble."

"I do hope so. But then, Rose has always had the talent of causing people who are with her to behave as wildly as she does. I'll have to watch her carefully, because Papa will be clueless."

Mary sighed and closed her eyes, relaxing back into the soft pillows.

"You're not tiring yourself out are you darling?" Matthew asked anxiously.

"No, I'm fine. It's not terribly taxing to be driven around in the car for a couple of hours looking at fields and discussing crop rotation and pigs, you know. And I don't believe you really have the right to comment on this; you're working more and more, and I can tell you're tiring yourself out, although I can see you're not going to listen to me about it."

"It's not that I don't listen, I just disagree; I'm fine. You, on the other hand, are pregnant, and you need to look after yourself. Robert could manage the estate well enough, you know, and I could do more at weekends and in the evenings."

"No," Mary said firmly. "You are not taking on any more work, and you are not spending our weekends, our time together, doing things I am perfectly capable of doing myself. Believe me, I want to look after our child as much as you do. But I know that I don't need to spend all day on a chaise longue to do that. Your mother agrees with me, you know. I only need to be sensible, and everything will be fine," she reassured him.

She adjusted the position of the cushion that was supporting her stomach as she lay on her side, then gasped and grabbed Matthew's hand as she felt the baby kick. He pressed his hand gently to her stomach, and smiled delightedly when he felt the movement.

They held their breath together and waited for another kick, but nothing happened and they both breathed out slowly.

"I will never tire of feeling our little one move. Never," Matthew whispered reverently.

Mary laughed softly. "I think I might. The bigger he or she gets, the stronger the kicks are. It's alright at the moment, but there's still months to go. I think I might end up feeling rather beaten up inside by the end."

"Never. You wouldn't dare hurt your Mama, would you darling?" Matthew said, addressing Mary's stomach as if he was talking to the baby.

Mary laughed at him. "The baby can't hear you, you ridiculous man."

"How do you know? I'm the doctor's son here."

"Don't pretend you read your father's books for any reason other than the illustrations," Mary said, raising her eyebrows. "I do talk to your mother, you know. I know about the book that used to fall open on the exact page where there was a large picture of a naked woman because _someone_ kept looking at that particular page."

Matthew's ears turned a delicate shade of pink. "I've always tried not to think about what you and mother talk about when you take tea together. Please don't tell me any more."

Mary laughed. They were silent for a minute, then Mary looked at Matthew, smiling. "I've been thinking it's time we started to think of names."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Any ideas?" Matthew asked.

"Well, I suppose we ought to at least consider Violet, Isobel, Cora and Martha. And the names of your grandmothers too," Mary began, her voice brisk and business-like.

Matthew frowned. "Martha?"

"My American Grandmother. Although since I haven't seen her in years, and she probably doesn't care about family names like Granny does, we don't need to consider it too seriously. Unless you like the name?"

Matthew frowned. "I'm not sure, really. But will Cousin Violet expect us to use family names?"

Mary paused to consider. "Well, she would certainly prefer it." She turned and smiled at him. "But she has no say in it. It's our baby and our decision. So what were your grandmothers' names?"

"Ida… and Edith," Matthew said, grinning as Mary looked at him in disgust.

"Well, at least that rules out one. I'm not calling our baby Edith." She paused. "Although Ida is quite nice. Perhaps for a second name. Other than that though, I like Elizabeth. For the queen who ruled England in the Golden Age and defeated the Armada, and proved wrong everyone who thought a woman couldn't rule. Or perhaps Eleanor. For…"

"For Eleanor of Aquitaine, who was one of the most powerful women in the medieval world?" Matthew interrupted.

"I… yes," Mary replied.

"I thought you said your useless governess hadn't taught you anything?"

"Oh, that wasn't any of my governesses. Carson taught me all the kings and queens of England. But darling, we're getting distracted, and this is important. Do you have any ideas?"

"Andromeda?" Matthew suggested immediately. Mary laughed.

"Be serious," she chided him. "And be fair to me. I'm the one who would have to present 'Lady Andromeda Crawley' at court."

Matthew laughed. "I do like it though. And all the names from Shakespeare: Celia, Hermione, Emilia, Miranda, Ophelia, Olivia... Although yes, I do like Eleanor and Elizabeth. But what about for a boy?" he asked gently, guessing that Mary was trying not to let herself hope for a boy.

"I… I haven't thought," she said quietly, and Matthew knew he was right.

"Oh Mary, I know everyone is hoping for a boy, but it really doesn't matter. We can have more children. And any child will be loved equally."

"I know. But however much we love a daughter, she will never be able to inherit the title. And Papa wants a male heir so much. It's just easier to expect a girl," Mary said quietly.

"It's just as likely to be a boy, you know," Matthew said.

Mary rolled her eyes. "Yes, I do realise that. I may have been educated by hapless governesses, but I am not entirely ignorant."

"You are far from ignorant, Mary, you are the most intelligent woman I know. And as an intelligent woman, you must see that we should have some names ready in case we do have a son."

Mary smiled. "Fine. I accept defeat. Do you have any ideas?"

Matthew looked up at the canopy of the bed smiled. "Well, we should consider Robert of course. And… well, only if you like it, and don't worry if you don't, of course it's your choice too, but I know Mother would be very pleased, and I…"

"Reginald," Mary said, reaching out to stroke Matthew's hair.

"I… yes."

"I like it, truly. It sounds… distinguished. And it will always make me think of you. Of course we'll consider it." She paused. "I wish I could have met him, your father. From what you and Isobel say, he sounds like the best of men. And since he made half of you, I should be grateful to him."

"I believe you and he would have got on well," Matthew said, smiling sadly as he imagined dinners and conversations that would never take place.

They were silent for a minute before Matthew spoke again.

"I have been thinking about George. I like the name, but I mean for George Wilson…"

"…without whom, we might never have had a child to name at all. Yes, I like it. A lot. The same name as the King, and St George. I think that would keep Granny happy."

"When I was a boy, I loved the story of St George and the dragon. My father used to tell the story to me. I had a toy sword and a rocking horse, and I used to pretend to be a fearless knight, riding out to slay dragons and rescue damsels in distress," Matthew said, smiling as he remembered. It was such a long time ago. Perhaps he could tell the same story to their child. There would be things he wouldn't be able to do with his son or daughter, but telling stories he would certainly be capable of.

Mary laughed at the image of a young Matthew pretending to be a heroic knight on the back of his rocking horse. She loved hearing about his life before she knew him.

"And what did your mother think about that?" she asked.

Now it was Matthew's turn to laugh. "Mother disapproved of toy weapons, and didn't like the fact that so many stories are about helpless women being rescued by strong, fearless men. So she used to make up her own stories, where women rescued men, and intelligence and common sense won over violence. And you know, those stories were just as good." He shook his head. "Not that they cured me of my dragon slaying obsession, but she did try."

"Then we can definitely count George as a strong possibility if we have a son. And we'll buy him a toy sword and a rocking horse. But please, I know you're right, but can we try not to hope too much?"

"Yes. Alright. Although I suppose that won't stop Robert from hoping. But we will have other children, Mary. We know it's possible now, so I see no reason anyone should be too disappointed if it's a girl."

"I hope you're right. But… well, it did take rather a long time for me to become pregnant. What if we were just lucky this time, and it doesn't happen again?"

"Well, we might be lucky again. And if we're not, then we'll have a beautiful child who will be loved by all the family, and whether they are male or female, they will inherit Downton. Don't worry about anything, darling; we married without any expectation of even one child, and we were happy. Now, you are pregnant. We mustn't lose sight of that miracle, whatever worries we have."

They felt the baby kick again, as if to remind them how fortunate they were, and how much they had to look forward to.

* * *

The next day, Rose said she was going out for a walk. In truth, she was going back to the Harris' farm to 'retrieve her gloves', or rather, to see Eddie. She had spent the night whispering his name to herself in the darkness, imagining his handsome face and strong, muscular arms. He was so different from the men she was supposed to be interested in; they were all dull and pathetic compared to Eddie, a real man who did real work on the farm.

She reached the centre of the village before realising that she wasn't entirely certain how to get to the Harris farm; she hadn't paid enough attention on the car journey. She looked around for somebody to ask, but quickly decided that in a small village where everybody knew everybody else's business, it was safer not to let anyone knew where she was going.

She wandered for half an hour or so before finally admitting to herself that she had no idea where to go. She sat down on a gate and stared out across the fields, trying to decide what to do. She could find her was back to the house easily enough, but she didn't want to give up. There didn't seem to be another option, however, and she was on the verge of making her way home, when she heard someone behind her say,

"Lady Rose?"

She twisted around to see who it was, and when she saw that it was Eddie Harris himself, she gasped and lost her balance on the gate. She cried out as she felt herself falling, but before she hit the muddy ground, she felt strong arms around her and knew he had caught her. He carefully set her down on her feet and smiled shyly.

"I'm sorry mi'lady, I didn't mean to startle you. I… I was on my way up to the big house. You left you gloves yesterday, and I thought I ought to return them." He reached into his coat pocket and brought out the gloves. "Here."

"Oh, thank you, for bringing me these, and for rescuing me from a fall! I was on my way to retrieve these gloves, but I'm afraid I am quite lost. I'm not from here, you see," Rose said, slightly breathless, both from the fall and from the fact that he, the object of her dreams, was standing there in front of her, and _he had held her in his arms!_

"You're welcome to any help I can give you, mi'lady. And Lady Mary said you live in Scotland. I went there once, years ago. I have an uncle in Glasgow, and we went to visit him, my Dad and me." He stopped short, and Rose remembered his father was dead.

"I am sorry. About your father."

"He was a good man. He didn't deserve to die at his age. But you needn't be sorry, mi'lady," Eddie said quietly. "Would you like me to show you the way back to the Abbey?" he asked solicitously.

Rose shrewdly considered her options. If she allowed him to show her home, she would have his company for a while, but not long enough. Perhaps she could persuade him to invite her back to his house. This must be the right road or he wouldn't have come this way.

"Oh, that is so kind of you," she said sweetly. "But I have wandered about these lanes for such a long time, and I am afraid I am rather in need of a rest first." She tried her best to look weary without ruining her looks.

"Our farm is only just over this hill. Would you like to come in for some tea before we leave?" Eddie asked, hardly daring to hope that this beautiful young lady would accept his invitation.

"Truly? Thank you, some tea would be most welcome," Rose replied, pleased that her plan was working.

They walked up to the farmhouse and found that there was nobody in. Knowing that this made the whole situation highly improper, Rose was delighted. For the first time since she was a tiny child and used to sneak down to the kitchens to escape her mother, Rose saw tea made properly, from the kettle to the cup. Instead of the relatively smart parlour she had sat in the previous day, Rose insisted she remain in the kitchen, which was warm and welcoming.

Although their conversation was awkward and shy to begin with, it soon became more natural and easy, and the handsome face she had been daydreaming about became a complete human being to her, as he told her about his family and his farm. She told him about the Highlands and found herself confiding in him about her parents' marriage, and her strained relationship with her mother.

It was a long time before she looked at the clock and realised that if she didn't leave soon, everyone would begin to worry about her. Eddie offered to walk her to the village, and she agreed instantly. They walked together in companionable silence, and when they reached the village, Rose was sad to say goodbye. Impulsively, she whispered,

"Meet me here after church on Sunday," and left before he had a chance to reply.


	13. Chapter 13

_**Again, it's taken me longer to write this than I had hoped, and I'm still not sure about parts of it. Life has left very little time for writing in recent weeks. However, I fear that if I agonise over it for too long, I'll never get around to finishing this story, and I promise that I fully intend to make it to the end.**_

 _ **Thank you so much to everyone who has followed, favorited or reviewed this story. Knowing that there are people enjoying reading this is what keeps me going!**_

* * *

Sybil and Tom arrived at Downton the weekend before Christmas, a date Mary had been looking forward to for months. So much had happened in the months since Sybil had last been at Downton that Mary felt she had so much to talk about, it would take up every minute of Sybil's visit.

She was spending less and less time on estate work as the combined forces of her parents and Matthew persuaded her that she needed to rest more, despite the fact that, unlike Edith, she was feeling perfectly well. With Matthew working even longer hours at the office, she found that she had rather too much time on her hands. She occupied herself in readying the new nursery, for which she had chosen a large, previously unused room on the same corridor as their suite. This was a pleasant task as she had never been permitted to completely redecorate a room before, but it was not enough to entirely occupy her thoughts. The worries she had been pushing to the back of her mind forced their way to the front of it, and she felt in desperate need of someone to talk to.

Although she was now on polite speaking terms with her mother, Mary didn't have any desire to spend much time with her. She wasn't angry anymore, but she simply couldn't ignore the knowledge that her mother seemed to neither know nor trust her. Perhaps if they had been closer before, they might have mended their relationship more successfully and in far less time, but as it was, it was very easy for them to live in the same house and spend very little time in each other's company.

Mary had been putting a great deal of effort into trying to improve her relationship with Edith and Edith had been doing the same, but really, they both knew it was hopeless. They might not be at each other's throats all the time anymore, but Edith was still Edith and Mary was still Mary; cosy sisterly chats were not something that was ever going to be enjoyable or easy for either of them, and Mary couldn't bear her sister's constant moaning about her various aches and pains.

Sybil, however, was entirely different, and Mary found she could hardly stop smiling as she greeted her sister, brother-in-law and niece.

Emmeline had grown again, and was now walking short distances on her unsteady baby legs and building up a vocabulary that went beyond 'mama' and 'dada' and 'no'. She greeted Mary with a wet kiss and a giggle, and Mary found herself falling in love again with her beautiful little niece who looked so much like Sybil had as a baby.

But Mary felt her joy fade a little as she watched Rose play with Emmeline. Even Rose knew what to do with small children, and yet she, even now, at almost seven months pregnant, didn't. She didn't know how to play with a baby, didn't know how to talk to someone who couldn't understand or talk back properly, didn't know how to make a child laugh without feeling ridiculous. She had worried before, but there had always seemed to be plenty of time. Now, there were a few short weeks, and she was beginning to truly panic.

Thank goodness Sybil was here. To have someone to discuss her worries with would surely help.

Sybil missed dinner that evening trying to settle Emmeline down to sleep in the nursery, after she had been thoroughly over-excited by Rose's tickling and loud, energetic games. Mary had a moment of smugness at the thought that perhaps Rose wasn't such an expert in babies after all.

Afterwards, Mary asked her younger sister to come and eat dinner, which had been kept hot for her, in her private sitting room. Matthew and Tom were still with Robert, talking and drinking. When Mary last looked in on them, they had been involved in a debate on whether Irish or Scottish whiskey was the superior liqueur. The debate had seemed to require a good deal of sampling of the different liquors.

When Sybil sat down at the small table, her look of delight at the full plate waiting for her made Mary laugh, and it was a few minutes before Sybil turned her full attention away from her meal and looked properly at her sister.

"I know I've already said it, Mary, but you really do look wonderful," she said sincerely.

Mary couldn't help smiling. She had been told the same thing many times in recent weeks, but she could trust completely in Sybil's honesty. Her little sister was kind and sweet, but she didn't flatter. "Thank you, darling, but I _feel_ very fat. Not that I should care of course, because there is such a good reason for it, but…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

"I understand. I almost forgot what it felt like to be woman-sized in the last months," Sybil said, smiling. "I mean it though, I've never seen you looking healthier and happier," she insisted.

"I truly am happy. And aside from being the size of a whale, I do feel wonderful. Perhaps a little tired, but nothing I can't cope with," Mary said, still smiling. She was silent for a moment, resting her hand naturally on her stomach as she thought of the first worry she wanted to talk to Sybil about.

Then she sighed and frowned. "How do you think Matthew looks?"

Sybil looked up from her dinner in surprise, and waited a second before replying, an answering frown creasing her forehead.

"He looks… tired, to be honest. Is he alright?"

Mary shook her head slightly. "I think he's been working too hard. You know they're going to make him a partner in his firm when Mr Harvell retires?"

"Yes, you said in one of your letters. I should congratulate him."

Mary couldn't stop her mouth twitching momentarily into a proud smile, but then she sighed and continued. "He said originally that he would only be expected to work full time when Jonathon (that's his friend, the other partner in the firm) wasn't there, but recently he's been working long hours almost every day of the week. He doesn't always make it home in time to rest before dinner, and I can see he's tired at the end of the day. He hates being told he can't do things, but really, I'm beginning to think it's just too much, what with estate work as well at the weekends. I try not to fuss, but he's tired all the time, and what with it being winter, and half the servants coming down with colds, I can't help worrying."

Sybil stopped eating and reached out to place her hand reassuringly on Mary's.

"I assume he's got time off over Christmas?" she asked gently.

"Yes, thank goodness. He won't be in until after New Year, although I expect he has paperwork to do. Yesterday was his last day in the office, and this morning he slept until eleven. I wish he wouldn't stay up late tonight, but he will."

"Have you spoken to Isobel?" Sybil asked sensibly.

Mary sighed again. "I thought about it, but somehow I don't think having his mother scold him will make any difference. Isobel worries about him as it is, and she tends to fuss. I just hope he'll rest over Christmas, and perhaps soon I'll be able to persuade him that I need him at home because of this," Mary replied, gesturing to her stomach.

Sybil put down her cutlery and took Mary's hand. "I'm sure he'll be alright, Mary. I know why you're worried, but he's strong and healthy, and he hasn't been ill in months, has he? He'll be fine after a good rest." She paused and smiled. "And I expect you're right that he would stay home if you asked him to for your sake."

Mary smiled. Yes, he'd do anything for her. If only he would look after himself as well as he looked after her.

"You're not saying this simply to reassure me?" she asked.

"No, I'm not. I know what I'm talking about. If you like, though, I can talk to him. I'm not his mother or his wife, and I'm a nurse, so he'll have to listen."

"Nobody can ignore Nurse Crawley," Mary teased, smiling and feeling more relaxed already.

"Branson now, Mary," Sybil corrected.

"Of course, but I've never seen you as Nurse Branson. I have two years' worth of memories of Nurse Crawley from the war, and she is quite formidable."

They both laughed.

Then, seeing that Mary was calmer and reassured, Sybil asked the question that had been on her mind since she had arrived.

"Mary? Is Rose… does she have one of her crushes on anyone at the moment?"

Mary laughed, but a small frown creased her forehead again.

"I'm afraid I don't really know. I have been trying to keep an eye on her, but I'm often so tired now, and there's estate work to do, and with trying to organise the new nursery too, I haven't had a lot of time. But I have my suspicions. She has been looking very happy and excited for a young girl staying with older relatives in rural Yorkshire. And she's often out walking alone, God knows where."

"That's what I thought," Sybil said seriously. "I mean about her looking happy. I'll try to speak to her, she usually tells me things."

"Thank you Sybil, truly," Mary said, glad to have another worry off her mind without even having to bring it up herself.

Sybil looked at the clock, then turned apologetically to her sister.

"I'm sorry, I should go and check on Emmeline. Then I'll go and get Tom to come to bed; I expect Papa and Matthew will retire if he does."

"May I come? To see Emmeline?" Mary asked, without really considering why she wanted to.

Sybil smiled warmly. "Of course."

They went upstairs and peeked into the nursery. The nightlight was on, casting friendly shadows on the walls. One of the maids, who was watching Emmeline until Sybil and Tom came to bed, was sitting on the old rocking chair that had been used by every nanny in living memory. She looked up, then stood suddenly when she saw who it was and gave a quick curtsey.

Sybil went over to the little bed and Mary followed. Sybil looked down at her sleeping daughter with a gentle, loving smile, then reached down to stroke her soft hair. Mary watched, fascinated by the beautiful, instinctive love, and her last and most insistent worry forced itself to the forefront of her thoughts.

When they were outside the nursery, she looked at Sybil and said quietly,

"How do you know what to do?"

Sybil looked surprised for a moment, then understood what she was being asked.

"Mary, you will know what to do when you see your baby," she said gently. "You will love him or her, and you will learn soon enough how to be a mother. It's not easy to look after a baby, in fact it's completely exhausting, but it's the easiest thing in the world to love one, and that's the most important thing. Everything else comes with practise, and you'll have plenty of help. I promise there's nothing to worry about. You will be wonderful."

Mary nodded slowly, and led the way downstairs in silence. Sybil was right, she was sure; loving her baby would be easy, in fact, she loved her child already. But Sybil had always been good with young children, whereas for Mary, it had never come naturally, and in truth, she had never been particularly interested in babies. She loved Emmeline, but Mama, Edith and of course Sybil all knew what to do with her and how to speak to her better than she did.

She was so happy that Matthew was going to be a father, knowing he would be wonderful. But she worried she would not be able to be the mother he would expect her to be; she was not, and never would be Isobel. She had been brought up to expect to hand her children over to a nurse soon after birth, and perhaps spend an hour or so of every day with them, but she doubted that was what Matthew would expect, and in truth, that wasn't the sort of mother she wanted to be anyway. The problem was that she wasn't certain what sort of mother she _did_ want to be.

And it was so simple for Sybil to say that loving was easy. Sybil had always loved freely and generously, and never caused anyone she loved pain. Mary, on the other hand, seemed incapable of loving without hurting or disappointing. She wasn't naturally affectionate, and however many times Matthew assured her that it wasn't true, she often feared that Sir Richard's assessment of her as 'the cold and careful Lady Mary Crawley' was quite accurate.

She couldn't say anything, even to Sybil. It felt as if admitting to her concerns would make them more real, and it seemed like such a terrible failing that she wasn't as certain about motherhood as all other women seemed to be.

Apparently, Sybil couldn't fix everything.

But as she lay waiting for Matthew, she felt the baby kick, and she closed her eyes and relaxed at the now familiar and reassuring movements. At moments like this, her concerns melted away as she enjoyed the simple joy of knowing that there was a new life inside her. The baby almost seemed to know when she needed this reminder of the deep, instinctive love she felt, that was so unlike the love she felt for anyone else.

At moments like this, she could believe that everything would be perfectly alright.

She was half-asleep when she heard Matthew enter his dressing room, and she listened sleepily to his conversation with William. She couldn't make out the words, but he sounded cheerful. She smiled to herself. He always enjoyed Tom's company.

When he came into the bedroom, he looked tired but happy. He got onto the bed and flopped back on the pillows, closing his eyes for a moment before pulling the covers up and pulling Mary closer to him for a kiss.

"Exactly how much whiskey have you had, Matthew?" she asked with annoyance part-feigned and part-real as she caught the smell of alcohol on his breath.

"I'm not drunk," he replied, laughing. "Although Tom and Robert might have been if Sybil hadn't come in when she did. Their debate involved rather a lot of tasting of the different whiskeys to prove their points."

"And I'm to believe you were an innocent bystander?" Mary asked with raised eyebrows.

Matthew smirked. "Always." Then he gave a long, loud yawn that made Mary laugh.

"Innocent or not, you're certainly tired. Goodnight darling," she said, adjusting the pillow supporting her stomach and settling down to sleep. She waited, concealing a smile as she waited for the inevitable complaint.

"You mean you're going to make me go to sleep without a kiss?" Matthew asked after a moment.

"I'm quite certain your mouth will taste of whiskey," she replied. "I don't like whiskey, Scottish or Irish."

Matthew sighed deeply. "Cruel woman," he muttered.

Mary didn't react, but smiled into the pillow.

"Just one kiss?" Matthew asked after a moment.

"If I'm such a cruel woman, why would I do that?"

Matthew reached out and stroked her cheek. "My beautiful, darling wife. You are the very opposite of cruel, and I love you very much and I am very sorry that I have consumed too much whiskey for your liking. Please, _please_ will you kiss me?"

The giggle Mary had been holding in burst free and she laughed. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight darling," she said firmly "If you want more tomorrow, you will not touch the whiskey."

Matthew sighed dramatically again. "Agreed. I'd far rather be drunk on you than on whiskey."

"Now you sound ridiculous. You really are tired, darling. Goodnight,"

"I love you Mary."

"Hmmmm," she said slowly. "I love you too."

Yes, at moments like this, all was well.

* * *

The next morning, Mary and Matthew stayed in bed late again, then ate a leisurely breakfast together in their suite, it being too late to join the rest of the family.

"Shall we just stay here all day?" Mary suggested, half seriously, when they were sitting together on the sofa listening to a record on their gramophone. It felt like a true holiday, as it was the first day in months that Matthew hadn't mentioned work and they had no obligations relating to the estate, and she felt wonderfully relaxed and happy.

"Attractive as that suggestion is, Sybil, Tom and Emmeline have just arrived, so it seems a shame to be so unsociable. And I'm going out with Tom after lunch," Matthew replied.

"Where?" she asked, trying not to sound too dismayed that she was to be abandoned.

"Oh, nowhere in particular, I just want to show Tom the changes on the estate since he was last here," Matthew replied casually, hoping desperately that Mary wouldn't ask for more details or suggest that she came with them. Withholding the truth in order for her Christmas present to be a surprise he could do. Lying, or putting her off when she was suspicious, he could not.

Mary was about to ask if she could go with them, but caught herself in time. Matthew and Tom were good friends and rarely saw each other, and apart from occasional lunches or afternoons in the pub with Jonathon, Matthew so rarely went out with just his friends. She could spare him for one afternoon, even if it was the Christmas holidays.

"Don't be late back; Aunt Rosamund is arriving today, and Edith and Anthony are coming to dinner, and Granny and Isobel," she reminded him.

"We won't be late," Matthew assured her. Their outing would only take as long as it took to drive to York and back, although he wasn't going to explain that to Mary. He was determined that her surprise really would be a surprise, however much she always protested that she hated surprises. He was hoping desperately that she would like this one.

* * *

While Matthew and Tom were out, Mary and Sybil decided to go for a walk with Emmeline. In the freezing December weather, Sybil had wrapped her daughter in so many layers of clothes, she looked almost as round as she was tall. Holding Sybil's hand, she could walk for a short distance, although she rarely went in the direction her mother wanted to go. Mary pushed the empty perambulator for when she got tired, and they set off slowly down the drive, having no particular destination in mind, but simply enjoying the fresh winter air.

"Do you have any idea exactly where Matthew and Tom have gone? Matthew was very vague about it," Mary said after a while. She had been wondering, remembering how Matthew had said that they were going around the estate almost _too_ casually.

Sybil turned slightly pink and looked down at Emmeline.

"Oh, just for a drive, I'm sure," she said vaguely.

Mary wasn't fooled.

"You know. Tell me," she demanded.

Sybil suddenly became very busy adjusting Emmeline's scarf, then picking her up and sitting her in the perambulator.

"Sybil?" Mary asked, really intrigued now.

"They're just going for a drive, Mary; they don't see each other any more often than we see each other." Sybil paused, thinking of an explanation that would satisfy Mary's curiosity. "Perhaps they're going to the pub."

Mary was not convinced.

"I'm not stupid, you know."

Sybil sighed, and decided a half-truth was better than allowing Mary to continue to ask questions.

"I know you're not stupid, but you're not thinking very hard at the moment, are you? Think, Mary. It's a few days before Christmas and your husband has gone off on a mysterious trip. Surely there is only one likely conclusion?"

Sybil watched as understanding dawned on her sister's face.

"My Christmas present. I see," Mary said. "I'll ask no more: Matthew likes to surprise me."

Sybil smiled to herself. Mary's present would certainly be a surprise, and she was looking forward to seeing her face when she saw it on Christmas day. As long as she could keep Tom quiet until then.

They wandered towards the village without ever having decided where to go, and Mary was glad when they realised where they were. The village was always full of excitement and activity in the week before Christmas, with decorations in the shop windows and people buying food and presents. On an impulse that surprised even herself, Mary went into the little village shop and bought a peppermint stick for Emmeline, remembering how much Sybil had loved them as a little girl. Then, as she was about to leave the shop, she bought one for Sybil too; Sybil might be a mother now, but she was still her little sister. Their identical looks of delight told Mary she had done the right thing, and she felt a warm glow of contentment. And next year she would have a child of her own to spoil. Maybe she could be a mother after all.

They stopped briefly at Crawley House to see Isobel, who was delighted with her unexpected guests. Mary watched her playing with Emmeline and was unutterably glad that she would be able to give her mother-in-law a grandchild to play with like that.

They didn't stay long, as they wanted to be back to greet Rosamund when she arrived. Emmeline, tired out by the walking and the playing, fell asleep on the way back to the house, and Mary and Sybil discussed in low voices the situation in Ireland.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Sybil sighed. "I have something to discuss with you," she said, her voice suddenly serious. She licked her lips nervously. "I… I'm thinking of leaving Ireland."

"What?" Mary said, staring at her sister in shock.

"I'm thinking of coming back to live in England. With Tom and Emmeline of course. You know the situation in Ireland is… fragile at best, and I don't think it's a safe place for Emmeline to grow up. For any child really, but she has the disadvantage of having the daughter of an English Earl as a mother."

"And what does Tom say to this plan?" Mary asked, suspecting she already knew the answer.

"He doesn't want to leave. He wants to be there for any fighting there is. He feels he's missed too much already. And he wants Emmeline to be Irish in every way. I would do anything for him, you know. I know he loves his country, and alone, I would stay there with him, whatever happens. But it's not about me, it's about my daughter. I can't live somewhere where I know she's in danger, not even for Tom," Sybil said earnestly. She had thought this through very thoroughly, arguments for and against leaving having been chasing around and around in her head for months now.

"Have you decided then?" Mary asked.

"Not definitely. But… I'm fairly certain. I have to do what is right for Emmeline. As soon as there is a stable peace in Ireland, we will return, of course we will. But now, I just don't think it's safe."

"If you just… leave, do you think Tom will come with you?"

Sybil nodded. "He'll come. He waited for years for me to make my decision to marry him, so I know he'll leave Ireland to be with me. I only wonder if he'll be happy." Sybil sighed. "I do think he'll see sense eventually though, and see that as long as the three of us are together, we can be happy anywhere. He can teach Emmeline Gaelic and talk to her about Ireland, and it's not as if we can never go back. He'll miss home, of course he will, and I will too. But I know that this is for the best."

"I believe you're right," Mary said after a while. "You must put yours and Emmeline's safety first, and Matthew has been talking about how volatile the situation in Ireland is. Will you come back to Downton?"

"It depends on where Tom can get a job. He won't keep his job at an Irish paper if he's living in England, and I'm not sure how he'll find a paper he's willing to write for, and that won't object to some of his more… radical opinions. I think we'll come to Downton at first while we find our feet, then… hope for the best. I don't know. It should be Tom's decision, since I'm making him leave his country."

"Well I wish it were under happier circumstances, Sybil, but I will be so glad if you come home. I miss my baby sister when you're away," Mary said softly.

"You can't call me your baby sister when I have a baby of my own," Sybil insisted.

"You are my baby sister, and nothing will ever change that," Mary said firmly. She paused. "You need to talk to Mama and Papa. And if you like, I can ask Matthew to try to talk some sense into Tom."

"Oh Mary, thank you. I do think Tom might listen to Matthew," Sybil said hopefully.

They were deeply absorbed in their conversation, and at first, they didn't register the sounds coming from behind the trees and bushes at the side of the path.

Until they both heard a name that brought them back to their present surroundings.

 _"Rose."_

It was a man's voice, and to Mary, it was familiar. She stopped, listened, and knew immediately what was going on. She left Sybil on the path, and pushed past branches to see behind the tree.

Standing there, locked in a tight embrace were Rose and – Mary looked carefully, and her suspicions were confirmed - Eddie Harris. They were both fully clothed (thank goodness), but they were kissing passionately, and didn't notice her until she cleared her throat loudly. They sprang apart and looked at her in horror.

"Mary. Oh Lord," Rose breathed, her eyes wide as she desperately tried to tidy her hair into some semblance of order.

"Mi'lady! I was… we were… please…" Eddie stammered, turning bright red as he spoke.

"Rose, Sybil is waiting on the path. Go to her. Now," Mary said in a tone that made it clear it was not a suggestion. Rose obeyed after shooting Eddie a pained and apologetic look.

Mary gave Eddie a withering stare worthy of her grandmother. He seemed to shrink.

"I'm sorry mi'lady" he muttered.

"You realise this can't go on, don't you," Mary said evenly, her tone allowing for no disagreement or contradiction.

"I… we love each other, mi'lady," Eddie almost whispered.

Mary raised her eyebrows disbelievingly.

"I doubt that very much, Mr Harris." She sighed. "I don't dislike or distrust you. So far as I can see, you are sensible and hard working. But you must see that you simply cannot behave in this manner with Lady Rose. I hope I do not need to inform anyone else of this, and that I never need to mention it to you again. Goodbye. And Merry Christmas."

She turned her back and returned to the path without looking back. Rose and Sybil weren't there, so Mary assumed they had begun to walk back to the house. She walked quickly to catch up with them, and caught sight of them when she came to a straight section of the path. They heard her and turned to wait.

Rose was looking furious, but quickly mastered herself and looked at Mary with wide, innocent eyes.

"You won't tell, will you?" she asked anxiously.

Mary ignored the question.

"What were you thinking? I knew you were silly and naïve, but I didn't realise you were this stupid. This is a public footpath, Rose, and we could hear you. _Anyone_ could have heard you! You simply cannot behave like this."

Rose lost her temper.

"Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do? At least Eddie's not dead in my bed!" she almost shouted.

They all froze as Rose's words sank in. Mary turned very pale, then began to walk quickly back to the house, her face frozen in a stiff mask that gave nothing of how she was feeling away.

Rose realised immediately how awful what she had said truly was, and ran to catch up with Mary.

"Mary, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it," she said quickly, feeling horribly guilty.

Mary didn't reply, only walked faster. She felt numb, and she needed to be alone. She wished Rose wouldn't try to keep up with her, because in her present condition, walking at a normal pace was a challenge, never mind hurrying like she was now.

In the past few months, hearing Mr Pamuk mentioned had been unavoidable, and she had ignored it. But coming from Rose like this… and it had been with kissing that the whole Pamuk disaster had begun.

She realised Rose was no longer at her side, and guessed that Sybil had pulled her back.

When she reached the house after what felt like an endlessly long walk, Mary went straight to her bedroom and lay down, still wearing her outdoor clothes. She was so very tired, and she simply couldn't face seeing anyone, or even moving from where she lay, so she stayed where she was and was soon asleep.

* * *

"Mary? Wake up darling," Matthew said gently, touching her arm. She stirred and her eyes flickered open.

"Matthew," she murmured. She blinked a few times, then sat up with difficulty and realised she was still wearing her hat, coat and gloves.

"Sybil was worried about you," Matthew said. "She said you argued with Rose. Are you alright?"

Mary slipped off the bed and carefully sat on Matthew's lap, then buried her face in his shoulder. His arms came around her, and she sighed as she remembered everything that had happened earlier.

"We found her kissing Eddie Harris behind a tree. I told her it had to stop, and she told me I had no right to tell her what to do because… because everyone knows Kemal Pamuk died in my bed." She was surprised that her voice was calm.

"Oh Mary," Matthew breathed as he stroked her back gently. Then he reached up and pulled out the pins that held her hat in place and removed it, then pulled out the clips and combs that kept her hair up, causing her hair to fall about her shoulders. She sighed in relief and relaxed. Then he placed his hands on her stomach and stroked it. Mary felt calmed and loved and placed her hands on his. They looked into each other's eyes and smiled, before Mary looked away and spoke again.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," she said quietly. "My story was in a national newspaper. Rose has a point; what right have I to criticise her behaviour when the whole country believes I have done something far worse than kissing a farm boy behind a tree?"

Matthew opened his mouth to protest, but Mary continued before he could speak. "I know, I know you're going to say I did nothing wrong, and I find now that I can believe you. But nobody knows the truth like you do, so they assume the worst."

"But Rose has said a hundred times that she doesn't believe a word of what was in the papers. Why would she…" Matthew asked, surprised that sweet, cheerful Rose could say something that would hurt Mary so deeply.

"Because she was angry and upset, and she hates being told what to do," Mary answered with a sigh. "She thinks she loves Eddie, and he thinks he loves her. They're mad. They barely know each other, and they're so young. And Rose is no Sybil; I doubt she could live in a tiny farmhouse without enough money for all her fashionable clothes."

The image of Rose as a farmer's wife was so amusing, they both found themselves laughing briefly.

Mary paused, remembering her conversation with Sybil before they had found Rose. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Sybil."

"Oh?" Matthew asked, surprised at the sudden change of subject.

"She told me today that she is thinking of leaving Ireland."

Matthew eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why? I thought she loved Dublin. And Tom will never leave."

"She doesn't think it's safe, especially for her and Emmeline. I think she's serious, Matthew, and I believe she's right to be. She's the daughter of an English aristocrat, and that's hardly a popular thing to be in Ireland at the moment. I think she's right to put Emmeline first." Her expression and voice softened. "I know I would for our child."

Matthew nodded, his expression softening as he gently stroked her stomach again. "I know you would. I know you will." Then looked at her with a wry smile. "You want me to persuade Tom, don't you?"

Mary looked down and smiled. "He'll listen to you; you can be very persuasive when you want to be."

Matthew sighed. "Tom is not someone who can be easily persuaded. You know how much he wants to be part of Ireland's fight for freedom. He'll just tell me I don't understand."

"But he loves Sybil and Emmeline. You have to make him see sense."

"I'll try," Matthew promised. "I'll speak to him before they go home. But I'm not making you or Sybil any promises."

"Thank you darling," she said softly. She kissed him and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "I do love you, you know."

"I know. And I love you too, so very much. And I believe we have time before Rosamund's arrival for me to show you just how much." He smirked. "I promise that all traces of whiskey have left my body by now."

Mary smiled. She stood up, then lay back on the bed. "I believe I _do_ need cheering up. And you need a reward for promising to help Sybil. Come here, darling."

Matthew didn't need to be told twice. Within seconds, he was on the bed and a moment later he had captured her lips with his. Sybil, Tom, Rose, and everyone else suddenly became very unimportant.

* * *

Mary and Matthew missed Rosamund's arrival, and when they joined the family for tea, at least half of those present guessed why. Despite the fact Mary had rung for Anna to repair her ruined hair and help her change, meaning that she now looked perfectly neat and tidy, the looks she and Matthew were giving each other gave them away.

Sybil smiled. She was glad. She had been worried about Mary earlier, but she realised that she needn't ever worry for her sister as long as Matthew was there for her.

Rose avoided eye contact with Mary, Matthew and Sybil, feeling horribly guilty. She didn't know what had come over her. She had been angry, but really, she knew that what Mary had said was perfectly reasonable, given the circumstances, and it was beyond cruel to use those awful lies against her cousin. Mary had surely suffered enough since that article had been published without having her own family bring it up. She wouldn't have been surprised if Mary had told everyone there and then about Eddie, and she wouldn't have blamed her.

When tea was over and the family dispersed, Rose caught Mary's arm and drew her into the dining room, where they were unlikely to be disturbed.

"Mary, I am so sorry, I regretted what I said as soon as I'd said it. Can you forgive me?" she pleaded.

Mary nodded stiffly, then made to leave. She didn't want to think about this now, not when she had managed to put it from her mind so successfully.

"No, Mary, please don't go yet," Rose asked. Mary sighed and sat down.

"Are you going to tell anyone about Eddie?" Rose asked tentatively.

"Only if this nonsense continues," Mary replied.

"But… Sybil married your chauffeur, and everyone loves Tom. What's the difference?"

"Sybil and Tom were in love for years before they married, and for most of that time, they controlled themselves. I only accepted their love because it was true and faithful. Besides, Sybil was of age, and there was nothing anyone could have done to stop her. She was old enough to make her own decision. You have not even had your debut, and you met Eddie only weeks ago. Your situation is not comparable to theirs."

"But we are in love!" Rose insisted.

"Rose, you've been 'in love' many, _many_ times before. Tell me, when you look back at those times, do you still believe you were in love?" Mary asked, looking at Rose with raised eyebrows. Rose looked away, blushing.

Mary continued. "Think about your situation. If you and Eddie are truly in love, and are still in love by the time you are of age, nobody will be able to stop you marrying. But you will have to live a very different life. You saw the Harris' house and farm. That is where you would live. For the rest of your life. And you romanticise Sybil's life too much. It isn't easy for her, you know. She does her own cooking and cleaning, and looks after Emmeline and has a job. She is lucky that both she and Tom managed to get the time off work to go to Duneagle in September, and to come here for Christmas; they didn't last year.

"If you want a life like that when you are of age, I will not stop or discourage you, as long as I can see that you love Eddie as much as Sybil loves Tom. But while you are living here and are under age, you will not sneak out to see Eddie Harris again. If you do, I shall inform my parents. I shall see you at dinner."

Mary rose carefully from her chair and left Rose standing alone in the room, confused and uncertain.


	14. Chapter 14

_**I've finally got another chapter finished! Hopefully life is calming down a little now, for a few weeks at least, so the next chapter should be ready before too long. I'm sorry I didn't manage to reply to reviews for the last chapter - it doesn't mean I don't appreciate them very much, only that I've been very, very busy!**_

* * *

On Christmas morning, Mary woke up early from what she remembered to have been a pleasant dream, although by the time she was awake enough to think properly, she had forgotten what it had been about. The dream had left her with a warm, contented feeling, and remembering that it was Christmas day, she sighed quietly with happiness.

It was still dark, but she knew somehow that it was the morning. She hoped it was very early, but it wasn't easy to tell in the depths of winter when the sun didn't rise until (or sometimes after) it was time to get up. She didn't want ever to have to move from this position, supported in all the right places by pillows and with the blankets tucked up around her in just the right way so that she was warm but not hot. This level of comfort had become a luxury by this point, almost seven months into her pregnancy, and she didn't want it to end. This was so perfect.

She couldn't remember when she had last felt so at peace. She had had so many things on her mind recently, so many things to worry about. Now, behind the thick curtains around the large, comfortable four poster bed, with her husband sleeping peacefully next to her, everything seemed so much less important.

The past few days had been so lovely. She had enjoyed spending time with Sybil and Emmeline, catching up on what had happened in their lives in the months they had been apart, and Matthew had been doing the same with Tom. The holiday had also allowed Matthew to rest properly for the first time in weeks, and after only a few days, he was looking much healthier and seemed to have far more energy. Which included more energy for making love. She smiled to herself.

Rose had been particularly nice to her recently, feeling awful for her comment about Pamuk when she had been discovered with Eddie Harris. Mary had still been hurt and angered by it, but this morning, she found that she wasn't anymore. While it had been a shock to hear such thoughtless unkindness from her cousin (it had sounded more like a pre-war Edith than Rose), Mary could see now that they had been words spoken in anger with no real spite or malice behind them. She couldn't muster the determination to stay angry with Rose, especially knowing that part of Rose's reason for behaving inappropriately with Eddie came from a desperation to love and to be loved as her cousins were and her parents weren't.

Mary was aware that this feeling of peace wouldn't last. Matthew would go back to work after New Year, and she would have to face the fact that she was going to have a baby in a few short months, a few weeks really, and she had no idea how she was going to manage as a mother. She still hadn't faced society after her scandal had been published, and she knew that she would have to at some point in the not too distant future.

And yet today it was Christmas, and she didn't need to think about any of this now. No, now she could enjoy this blissful warmth and sleepiness.

She gasped as she felt the baby jab her hard in the ribs. So much for comfort and sleepiness. Perhaps that was what had woken her. She stroked a hand across her stomach, no longer feeling uncomfortable with her new shape, but loving the evidence of the baby that was so impossible to ignore. Matthew's adoration and wonder at her new curves and ever-growing bump had slowly infected her, and she had decided that she rather liked being pregnant.

She looked at Matthew. He was still fast asleep, and it seemed a shame to wake him. But it would surely be time to get up soon, and she decided she wanted the company of her husband. She reached for his hand and moved it to rest on her stomach where she could still feel the baby moving. He mumbled something sleepily and moved his hand slightly. She placed her hand on his and pressed it down gently. He turned his head on the pillow to face her, before opening his eyes. He blinked several times, then gave a lazy smile as he felt the movement under his hand.

"Good morning," Mary whispered. "It seems the baby is continuing the children's tradition of waking parents far too early on Christmas morning."

Matthew laughed quietly. "I think, my darling, that it was _you_ who woke me this morning."

"Are you complaining?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Never," he replied. He carefully shifted his legs and rolled over onto his side so he was facing her. Their eyes met, and they moved closer and kissed, smiling into each other's lips.

"Merry Christmas Mary," he whispered when they drew away.

"Merry Christmas, darling. Now, will you tell me what my present is?"

He laughed. "Oh no. You must be patient and wait for that."

"But it's Christmas day. You might as well tell me now," she pleaded.

"I'm not telling you anything. You will see it yourself soon enough." He paused, smiling at her, his eyes sparkling. "However, there is another gift, which I would like to give to you now."

Her eyes widened as she looked at him curiously. He didn't say anything else, but reached out to stroke back her hair and kissed her again.

"This gift," he murmured, "requires you to remove your nightdress."

Mary smiled, understanding instantly the nature of her first gift. She slowly pulled her silky nightdress over her head, exposing her heavily pregnant body.

"You... Are... Truly... Exquisite," Matthew breathed between kisses.

Mary giggled breathlessly and lay back on the soft pillows.

"And now, my darling, you need to close your eyes," he whispered. She obeyed, shivering in anticipation of the pleasure she knew was coming. She waited for what seemed like many minutes, but what was in fact only seconds, before she felt his lips brushing her sensitive breasts. She moaned loudly at the intense and beautiful sensation. And from then on, she lost all ability to think coherently, as she seemed to feel Matthew's hands and lips everywhere. She was on fire, and she was drowning, and she was crying out again and again, and it was glorious. All interest in her mysterious Christmas present disappeared as she decided that whatever it was, it couldn't possibly be better than this.

* * *

When Anna came in to open the curtains, Mary and Matthew were dressed in their nightclothes again and were sitting up against the pillows, with the curtains around the bed opened. This perfect neatness and propriety was enough to tell Anna that it was a good job she hadn't come any earlier, and she struggled to hide a smirk.

"You'll get a nice surprise if you look out the window," she said as she drew the curtains of the first window.

Mary and Matthew turned to look, and saw the world outside covered in a light dusting of snow. And, they noticed, there were still delicate flakes falling. Mary beamed in delight and got out of bed to look. Snow on Christmas day was a rare and delightful treat, and the sight filled her with a childish excitement she hadn't felt for so many years.

Matthew was equally delighted for a moment, before a slight frown creased his forehead. What was going to happen with his present for Mary? Was the snow too thick, the roads too icy? This was the first time it had snowed on Christmas day in years, and of course it had to happen this year. Well, there was nothing he could do about it, and really, it was so very beautiful he couldn't possibly be displeased.

"Rose and Sybil are guaranteed to insist on building a snowman, and probably on having a snowball fight too," Mary said with a sigh.

"And you are not to go anywhere near them if they do," Matthew said quickly, looking suddenly alarmed. "We can't have you getting hurt. Or cold."

Mary laughed. "Can you see me taking part in a snowball fight even if I wasn't pregnant?"

Matthew tried to picture it and failed. He smiled and shook his head.

"Well then, you needn't worry," she said. Reassuring Matthew that she and the baby were quite well and were in no danger was becoming a full time occupation. It was endearing that he wanted so much to take care of her, but by this point, it was becoming a little wearing. However, today was Christmas Day, and she made a conscious decision to find it sweet rather than irritating. For today at least.

* * *

With Emmeline running around in a state of extreme excitement all day, and Rose not behaving very differently, it turned out to be the liveliest Christmas at Downton since Sybil had been a child. Violet, Isobel, Edith and Anthony had stayed the night on Christmas Eve due to the threat of snow, and with Rosamund there too, the house felt full and cheerful.

Matthew spent the morning alternately excited and nervous about what Mary's reaction to his gift would be. Tom had loved it, and that had been reassuring, but would Mary be pleased? She had seemed enthusiastic about the idea when he had mentioned it to her casually several times in the past few weeks, but had she really been serious about it?

Thankfully, the snow had stopped falling and the light dusting on the ground was melting fast. Sybil and Rose certainly wouldn't be able to build their snowman, but his surprise for Mary wouldn't be ruined by the weather.

He was briefly distracted from his thoughts as they handed out the presents for the servants. He had bought William a couple of books and some sheet music for him to play on the piano, and William's delighted smile when he unwrapped his gifts pleased Matthew greatly. It was only a shame that William didn't have a piano in his cottage. Perhaps that situation could be remedied next Christmas. It would certainly be an extravagant gift, but William had saved his life, and that gift could never be fully repaid. He would discuss it with Mary, he decided. She would object at first, of course, but if he could manage to talk her around, he would know it wasn't a terrible idea.

After the servants had all received their gifts, it was time for the usual buffet luncheon. Mary consciously swallowed a complaint when Matthew insisted that she sit down and have someone else bring her food. _Sweet and endearing_ she reminded herself. When Sybil brought her the plate that Matthew had filled for her, however, she didn't need to remind herself. He had chosen suitably large quantities of her favourite foods and nothing she didn't want, and she smiled at him gratefully before tucking in ravenously.

When the time came to exchange presents within the family, everyone watched with amusement as Emmeline, with a little help from her parents, figured out how to open the wrapping paper. She revealed several dolls, a rocking horse (from Mary) and some picture books. Mary was rather pleased to see that it was the rocking horse that her niece seemed most interested in.

Mary had spent the morning wondering what Matthew's mysterious surprise present was, but when she opened the neatly wrapped packages that were from him, they contained nothing out of the ordinary. There was beautiful and expensive looking jewellery and a bottle of perfume, but while she loved it all, and was very glad that her husband had impeccable taste when it came to jewellery, there was nothing that explained Sybil's mysterious hinting the other day.

She was beginning to dismiss Sybil's comments from her mind, and concentrate on deciding whether to wear her new necklace despite the fact it didn't match her dress, when Matthew took a small box out of his pocket and handed it to her, an excited smile turning up his lips.

She gently shook the box, as if trying to guess what was in it like a child. She slowly untied the ribbon, then rolled it up and set it down on the table carefully, enjoying the way he was watching her eagerly, desperate for her to hurry. She undid the paper equally slowly, then folded it up and placed it next to the ribbon. To her amusement, Matthew looked ready to take the box and open it himself if she didn't hurry, but she continued to do everything slowly. She examined the box carefully. It looked as if it had come from an expensive jewellers. Well, it might be predictable, but she knew that whatever Matthew had picked out, she would love. And it must be something special for him to be excited about it as she could see he was.

She opened the box, expecting to see glittering jewels, and saw instead… a key. She looked at Matthew in confusion.

"What am I supposed to be opening with this key?" she asked. She realised that everyone else was watching her, and knew immediately that they all knew what the gift was, and were enjoying her confusion. She was a little irritated. She hated that everyone knew something she didn't.

Matthew merely smiled in answer to her question, and her frustration increased.

"Matthew, I insist you tell me what is going on. You know I dislike surprises, and only put up with them because you enjoy it so much, but really, this is enough," she said, amused and exasperated in equal measure.

"If you will just be a patient another minute or so, the mystery will be revealed," Matthew said, smirking.

Mary was distracted for moment by the sound of a car arriving at the front of the house. She frowned; they weren't expecting visitors.

"Shall we go and see who's arrived?" Matthew suggested, and Mary knew instantly from his innocent expression that this was somehow connected with her rather mysterious Christmas gift. She nodded, as this was clearly expected of her, and she followed Matthew out of the room and to the front door, the rest of the family following behind. She stopped when Matthew insisted that she put on a coat, before Carson opened the door for them. When they went outside, they saw a small, fast-looking car, and Tom standing next to it, smirking.

"Merry Christmas darling," Matthew said, slightly nervously.

Mary stared. It was certainly a lovely car, designed for elegance as well as utility, and it was exactly what she would have chosen herself had she been buying a car. Was this really her Christmas present?

"This is mine?" she asked Matthew quietly.

"Yes."

"But…" She stared at the small, sporty vehicle. "There's not much space in the back. The chauffeur will have more space than us." She sounded quite horrified.

Tom burst out laughing, but Sybil shot him a stern look and he controlled himself.

"Well, we don't need to sit in the back. There's space in the front for two, or even three, including one very small person," Matthew said, carefully placing a hand on her stomach, still smiling in a way Mary found quite maddening.

"But… we… neither of us can drive," Mary protested.

"Not at the moment, no. But it shouldn't take you too long to learn," Matthew said. When she continued to stare at him in disbelief, he added in a lower voice so that only she could hear, "Edith learnt. Don't tell me you can't." This made her laugh, but she was still uncertain.

"And what if I prefer a chauffeur?" she asked.

"Well, I did ask you whether you would ever consider learning to drive a few weeks ago, and you were not opposed to the idea. In fact you were quite enthusiastic. And you've also mentioned that you dislike sharing your parents' cars."

"I… yes, but that was… theoretical, for the future. I wasn't expecting…" Now she came to think of it, she wasn't certain what she _had_ been expecting when she had expressed a wish to learn to drive. It had seemed so distant a possibility when she had spoken of it with Matthew.

"But Mary, don't you see? We are going to have our own little family in a few months. This is not just a car, this is our independence. Look," Matthew said. He wheeled himself over to the car and opened the passenger door. He positioned his chair carefully, took a deep breath, then, in a movement that looked practised and even relatively easy, got himself onto the car seat. He looked back at Mary with a hopeful smile, and she, her hand over her mouth in surprise and feeling tears pricking her eyes, went over to him and kissed him, ignoring the fact that her family was standing behind watching her; nothing could matter less. She let the tears fall as the full meaning of this gift dawned on her.

It was perfect. She had thought they would never be able to just go out alone, since other cars were too high for Matthew to get into without being lifted, and it was even more awkward with trains. But now, she imagined wonderful, private outings, driving down country lanes in the sun with the roof down on the car and the wind in their hair, and possibly with their child sitting between them, going wherever they wanted, whenever they wanted…

"Oh Matthew," she whispered. "This is… this is wonderful. Thank you darling."

Matthew pulled her down onto his lap and kissed her again, the angle less awkward this time.

They both found themselves laughing as they drew apart a little.

"What do you think shocked Granny the most?" Mary whispered, "The car, the fact that I'm going to learn to drive, or our rather inappropriate kissing?"

"I should think the whole family and household are immune to inappropriate kissing by now," Matthew replied. "We don't have very good self-control, do we? However, I think Robert was more shocked than Cousin Violet by the car and the driving. He knew a few weeks ago of course, as the car will have to be kept in the garage here and be looked after by Stark, and when I told him, he looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. He thinks it a very odd Christmas present, and doesn't seem to understand why it is to be _yours_ , not _ours_."

Mary thought about that and frowned. "And why is it to be mine? Why didn't you just buy it? We'll be going out in it together, surely."

Matthew reached up and held her cheek gently, stroking her soft skin with his thumb. "Because I think you like the idea of owning your own car. I think you will enjoy being in charge, and being able to use it without asking or thinking about anyone else."

Mary smiled again. "You know me so well," she said. Because he was right, now she thought about it, she was very pleased with the idea of having her own car. If anyone wanted to borrow it, or come with her somewhere in it, it would be her they would have to ask.

They would have kissed again, but as they leaned closer, a pointed cough reminded them that the rest of the family were still present.

Instead, Mary got out of the car and watched as Matthew managed to get back into his chair as easily as he had got out of it. He showed her the cleverly designed frame he had had made that made strapping his chair to the car easy. Then Tom got into the driver's seat and drove Mary up the drive to the road and back again, explaining as he drove about the pedals and the gears and the steering. Mary tried to listen, as she would have to learn these things, but really, she was too lost in her own thoughts to pay much attention.

When they pulled up again in front of the house, only Matthew and Sybil were still waiting for them outside, Matthew now with a blanket over his legs and Sybil wearing a coat against the icy chill in the air.

"Well?" Matthew asked, smiling hopefully at Mary as Tom handed her out of the car.

"I told you, I love it. And you've very cleverly given me an incentive to learn to drive as soon as I possibly can. That is the nicest car I've seen, I think."

"I'm glad," Matthew said warmly. "Now come inside before you catch a chill. The snow's melted, but it's still cold."

Mary, with great effort, succeeded in not rolling her eyes. She was perfectly warm. "I could say the same to you. You needn't have waited."

"I wanted to see your face when you came back. And it was worth it."

They went back into the house, and the rest of the family looked up when they entered the library again.

Seeing the smile on Mary's face, Violet said, "We won't need a chauffeur soon; Tom, Edith and now you. I don't know what this family is coming to."

"I can't drive yet, Granny," Mary said. "And I'm not sure that learning before March is really an option either."

"Quite right," Robert said quickly. "We can't have you speeding about in your condition."

Mary made a show of raising her eyes heavenwards and sighing. She had made no promises to herself that morning about not being irritated by _Papa's_ fussing.

"Mary, will you take me out, when you've learned to drive?" Rose asked excitedly. "That car looks like it can go fast."

"Maybe," Mary answered vaguely, but really, she wanted to tell everyone that the car was hers and Matthew's, and theirs only; like Matthew had said, it was their independence, and she didn't want to share it.

She and Matthew spent several minutes being questioned before they could sit together in a corner of the room that was slightly away from the rest of the family.

"You really do like it then?" Matthew asked.

"What do I have to do to convince you? Of course I love it darling. You've been worrying, haven't you?"

"Just a bit," he admitted. "Not anymore though."

"Good. How long have you been planning this?"

"A few months. You've mentioned quite a few times how much you have wanted independence, and I know how it irritates you when a car isn't available to take you out when you want. So this is it: your independence, and mine, if you'll have me." He shook his head. "It took me a while to be confident enough that you'd actually want to learn to drive, and then it took even longer to find the right car. It had to be elegant and fast, or I know you wouldn't want to drive it, and it had to be low enough for me to be able to get in and out of it."

"That was impressive, by the way," Mary complimented. "It looked like you do that every day, and it can't be easy."

"I've been practising," Matthew said, thinking of the time he had spent in the garage with Tom these past few days, trying to figure out how to reliably be able to get into the car so he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of everyone. Or at least, that was what he had been doing. Tom had been admiring the car enviously and asking detailed questions about it that Matthew didn't know the answers to.

"I wish I could start learning now, but I suppose it really isn't a good idea at the moment. I expect soon, I won't even fit behind the wheel." She thought it was better to say it herself than to wait for Matthew to irritate her by saying it. "I wish I had Tom to teach me though, like Edith had."

"Maybe Edith could teach you," Matthew suggested jokingly.

"Yes, that's a good plan; put me in charge of a powerful motorcar while Edith and I are screaming at each other. No."

"Well, obviously you'll have to have some help from Stark to begin with, but, well, I can help. I mean, I can't drive now, obviously, but I did learn. During the war," Matthew said quietly. He remembered that feeling of being in control of something so powerful so well. Speeding down the roads, the wind blowing his hair all over the place, the world rushing past so fast, the horrors of war for once far from his mind…

"I didn't know," Mary said slowly. It was strange now to hear new things about Matthew, after almost three years of marriage, and she liked it. But the thought of there being yet another activity Matthew could no longer do brought a lump to her throat. He had bought this lovely car for her, but she could tell that he would really have loved to drive it himself.

She squeezed his hand and smiled. "But yes, you teaching me would make it far more enjoyable. I can't wait."

"You might be able to have Tom teach you anyway. If he can be persuaded to leave Ireland."

Mary sighed. "You haven't talked to him yet, have you?"

Matthew looked away guiltily. "I haven't been able to find the right moment. I don't want to risk an argument at Christmas. But I promise I will do it soon."

"Tomorrow, Matthew. They're leaving soon."

"Fine. Tomorrow," Matthew agreed reluctantly. It was going to be a difficult conversation, but Mary was right; he was running out of time, and he had to at least try to persuade Tom to do the sensible thing.

* * *

Matthew decided to have his conversation with Tom over a game of chess. It was something they often did together when the Bransons were at Downton, although the game was of secondary importance to the discussions they had while they played. The situation in Ireland was a topic that often came up, and so, theoretically at least, turning the conversation to what Matthew had been told to discuss with Tom shouldn't have been hard.

In reality, however, Matthew found it difficult to start. He didn't want to seem as if he was interfering, although he knew that in reality he was, and he didn't want to argue with Tom when it might be months before he saw him again.

But Sybil was right: Ireland was not safe for the daughter and granddaughter of an English aristocrat. So he had to say something.

When Tom was silent for a minute, carefully deciding on his next move, Matthew knew that it was now or never.

"Mary mentioned that you and Sybil were thinking of leaving Dublin for a while, until everything settles down a bit," he began carefully.

Tom looked up from the board quickly. " _Sybil_ was thinking of it," he said.

"And you? What do you think?"

"I can't leave my country when I am needed to fight for our freedom," Tom said shortly, before deliberately turning his attention back to the game.

Matthew glanced at Tom's determined expression, then looked across the room and out the window. He felt a sudden stab of anger at Sybil and Mary for putting this on him. If he failed, he would feel responsible for anything that happened to Sybil and Emmeline and would never forgive himself. Why they seemed to think he could help was beyond him.

But he had to try. He had been worried about Sybil since she had moved to Ireland when she married Tom, and the situation was not improving. He knew that Mary and Sybil had only asked him to help because they wanted the people hey loved to be safe, and his anger at them vanished. Tom obviously didn't want to have this conversation, but it was a conversation that needed to be had, and he just needed to get on with it.

"I understand why you want to stay for the fight," he said, keeping his voice carefully measured. Tom looked up, and Matthew took a deep breath and continued. "But what about when your wife and child are potential targets, Tom? You know better than I do the anti-English feeling there is in Ireland at the moment." When Tom opened his mouth looking angry, Matthew held up a hand and continued. "I'm not saying your cause isn't just, I'm not saying Ireland doesn't have the right to be angry with the English. God knows, I'm angry enough myself about what's going on that's done in the name the crown and of England's glory. But this isn't about politics, Tom, it's about your family."

"My daughter is Irish. She may have been born here, but she's Irish. She should grow up in her homeland," Tom said stubbornly. He had had this argument with Sybil countless times, and saw no value whatsoever in having it again.

"If that's how you and Sybil feel, I don't disagree with you. But I think some people, people fighting on your side Tom, would not see Emmeline in that way. Her grandfather is an English Earl, her mother is a Lady, she was born in England. Ideally, yes, you should live where you feel at home. But the situation is far from ideal. It's dangerous. Ireland could explode into all-out civil war at any time, and you know it."

"And if it does, I have to be there! I missed the Easter Rising, I missed… everything! I waited here all through the war, and after for a while, for Sybil to be ready to come away with me. I knew there was a fight coming after the Great War, and it's here. I have to be a part of it."

"I know, Tom. I know how you feel about fighting for freedom. I'm sure I'd feel the same if I were in your position. For God's sake, I volunteered to fight in a war which was fought for reasons arguably much less worthy than the fight in Ireland! But Sybil wants what is best for Emmeline, as I'm sure you do." He paused, and looked at Tom gravely, willing him to see the truth in what he was saying. "They could die, Tom, have you thought about that? Your daughter and your wife could be shot, or blown up, or…" He broke off and shook his head. "I've seen war, Tom. You haven't, and I hope you never do, whatever you say about wanting to fight. It's horrendous, worse than any description that can be given. I saw the queues of refugees, I saw the destroyed villages and fields and woods, I saw children no older than Emmeline injured or orphaned. You don't want your daughter growing up in the middle of a war. Not for anything."

Tom looked as if he were about to shout, but then looked down, his posture sagging.

"I love them. I want the best for them. But I love Ireland too. How can I be true to myself and to my beliefs if I leave my home when I'm needed most and come and live in England?"

"It wouldn't be permanent. You can go home when it's safe. You're not giving up on your principles and beliefs by wanting to keep your family safe. Things will settle down. As for Emmeline, you can teach her about Ireland without you needing to live there. Ireland will still be her home. In fact, it's likely she won't even remember the time you will spend here by the time she's older."

Tom continued to look down, his forehead creased into a frown as he thought. He reached out and picked up one of the chess pieces, turning it around and around in his hand without seeming to notice what he was doing. Then, after several minutes, he sighed and looked up.

"You're right. Of course you're right. I'm not happy about it, and I won't be happy until me and my family are living permanently in a free Ireland. But for now, I have to put my family first." He laughed suddenly. "I never had a chance, did I? With Mary and Sybil against me, and now you. Two Crawley sisters and a bloody lawyer. Why do I even bother arguing?"

Matthew reached out and put a hand on Tom's shoulder. "You are doing the right thing. Sybil will be happy. And Emmeline will be safe."

Tom nodded slowly. He couldn't pretend that Matthew's words weren't true.

"And," Matthew added, smiling slightly, "I can't say I'll be sorry to have you around. You and Sybil certainly make life here rather more interesting. Or at least, more unpredictable. And… you're a good friend, Tom."

Tom nodded again, smiling this time. "Maybe it's useless trying to be the same person I used to be. I know what my mates in Dublin would have to say about my being a 'good friend' to the future Earl of Grantham. But thank you. You're a good friend to me too. And I'm going to need you more than ever if I'm going to live here and keep my sanity."

Matthew smiled. "When will you tell Sybil?"

"Tonight. After dinner. We can make plans together, and discuss it with everyone else tomorrow. We leave two days after."

Matthew nodded. "You won't have to live here, you know. Not in the house. There are places nearby you could rent. Robert and Cora will want you here, I'm sure, but just remember England doesn't have to mean Downton."

"I think we'll sort that out some other time. For now… there's a lot to arrange. The flat in Dublin, our jobs, friends, family…" He shook his head. "But we'll sort it out," he said with a new determination that made Matthew smile.

That sat in silence for a minute, before Matthew gestured to the forgotten chess board. "Do you want to finish the game? It was actually going quite well before we got distracted. You're getting better." He smirked. "Maybe you'll beat me properly one day."

"I've beaten you before!" Tom said indignantly.

"Come on! You can't think I was actually trying when that happened? I was letting you win to boost your confidence."

"You were not! And I'm going to thrash you this time!"

They got back to the game, and enjoyed themselves so much, Tom began to wonder if living in Downton really would be such a terrible thing after all.


	15. Chapter 15

Once the excitement of Christmas and New Year was over, Mary began to feel rather bored. The Bransons had gone back to Ireland to make all the necessary arrangements for their temporary move to Yorkshire, and since they had left, the atmosphere in the house felt decidedly flat. To make things worse, getting out of the house was becoming increasingly difficult. Being on her feet for too long had become a trial, so walking to the village was no longer an option, and shopping had become something to be endured more than enjoyed.

Visiting Isobel or Granny or Edith was a distraction, but she couldn't fill whole days like that, and anyway, she had had enough of irritating pregnancy and motherhood advice. Everyone seemed to have forgotten that she was able to think or talk about anything else, and all the contradictory advice was becoming overwhelming. Increasingly, she found herself spending the days waiting for Matthew to come home from work, the monotony only broken by estate work.

Yet even estate work had become more difficult. After almost falling when she had tripped on a loose stone while looking at the drainage system in a farmer's field, she had been all but forbidden from 'traipsing around muddy fields' as Papa put it. She now mostly remained in the car when she went out, and it wasn't the same. Only now did she come to appreciate quite how frustrating Matthew must find it to always have to stay in the car like this. She liked understanding the land and the crops, and it wasn't easy to do from the car, as she was reliant on other people's reports and her limited view.

She was of course excited for the birth, but as the weeks wore on, she became more nervous. She had no delusions about childbirth; she knew it would be horribly painful, and despite being safer than it had been in the past, it was still dangerous. She remembered how close Sybil had come to not making it and she didn't think she could ever forget the terror and panic of that awful night.

But her strongest and most enduring worry was about being a mother. She did not feel ready. Ever since she had announced her pregnancy she had been hearing advice from everyone, but still she felt utterly unprepared. She did not want to be like Granny, who had left her children to the care of their nanny all day except for an hour or so before dinner. She did not want to be like Mama, who although she had spent more time with her children, had still left most of the work to nannies and governesses. She could never be like Isobel, who had been utterly devoted and had done everything herself. And she was not like Sybil, who seemed to find it all so easy, knowing what to do as if by some innate instinct, and having the medical knowledge that enabled her to trust herself.

Beyond these examples, Mary knew very little of motherhood. She had vague ideas of taking her daughter shopping and presenting her at court, or of teaching her child to ride a pony, but these were ideas for far in the future, and she was worried she would have no idea whatsoever what to do with a baby. She was certain that Matthew would be a wonderful father, and wished desperately that she could have the same faith in herself.

Matthew's state of mind, however, was little better than Mary's. He found himself in a constant state of anxiety about wife. He knew too well that there were a daunting number of things that could go wrong with pregnancy and childbirth, and his worry only increased as Mary became bigger, clumsier and more tired. This was made worse by the fact that he felt he could be of little assistance to her. He couldn't take her arm when she was walking, he couldn't support her up stairs, and he wasn't much use helping her with the increasingly difficult task of standing up. He would always offer his arm, and she would always take it, but it was difficult for him to pull her up when he himself was seated. If he was already failing when the baby hadn't even been born, how much more seriously would he fail as a father?

His strongest memories of his own father were of being lifted high in the air, of being taught to ride a bike, and then a horse, of flying kites and playing football in the park. And he couldn't do any of those things. He had been so euphorically happy when Mary had told him she was pregnant, but now, he wondered if it was not better that he didn't have a child. How could he look after a child when he could barely look after himself? What sort of father could he be if he couldn't do anything with his son or daughter?

Mary and Matthew didn't discuss their concerns, wanting to avoid worrying each other. It wasn't keeping secrets exactly, but neither was it being entirely open and honest, which they had tried hard to be since their marriage. To distract themselves, they used the same tactics: ensuring that they were always busy, so that their minds couldn't be occupied by unpleasant or worrying thoughts. This also made keeping their feeling private easier than it would otherwise have been, as they spent less time together. Matthew continued to work long days at the office, and worked hard at home most evenings and weekends. Mary, despite finding that she tired easily now, worked harder on the estate, dealing with papers and accounts now she couldn't be so active. She spent time with Rose indoors, trying to keep her cousin occupied in order to prevent her from sneaking away to be with Eddie Harris, or any other unsuitable young men.

Although Mary was finding she was too tired to do much, she couldn't stand being told what she must and must not do. She knew that everyone meant well, but it was just too much, and she went about feeling irritable almost constantly.

So, one day, when Matthew told her that perhaps she ought not to go on the estate tour they had planned with Robert for that afternoon, she finally lost her temper completely.

"For God's sake! What do you want me to do? Sit around the house all day and sew? You spent so much time talking about how you wanted me to be involved in the running of the estate, how you believed women to be the equals of men, and yet as soon as I am an expectant mother, I must stay at home."

"Mary, you know I don't mean…" Matthew began, reaching out to touch Mary's hand, but she pulled it away angrily.

"I have had enough, Matthew! You, Papa, Carson, even Anna and Mama now, going on at me to take care of myself ' _because there are two to think of now'._ Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I somehow haven't noticed that I'm as big as a whale and that I'm tired and uncomfortable all the time? Do you think I don't care about our child as much as you?"

"Of course I…" Matthew tried, but Mary ignored him again.

"Apparently, everything I want to do is dangerous, and I must avoid it if I am not to endanger the child; hot baths, riding, walking outside, estate work, even going up stairs, for goodness' sake. What else am I expected to do? You spend all day at work with your friend Jonathon, being useful and doing what you love, but without Diamond and the estate, I have nothing to do. Apparently, it's dangerous even to go upstairs to sit with Mama in her rooms, even though if our bedroom was upstairs, I'd go up and down several times a day. I am not made of glass!"

"Well now you know how I feel when you fuss over me," Matthew said angrily. He hadn't meant to lose his temper, but the subject of the conversation brought up resentment and irritation that had been building up for months. "You're always telling me I work too hard, that I need to rest, that I need to look after myself. Well, I like working, and I'm honoured that Mr Harvell trusts me to take over when he retires, and if that involves working longer hours, then so be it. I am not made of glass either, you know. For goodness sake, you are going to give birth to our baby in less than two months! Surely it isn't too much to ask that you look after yourself?"

"I can and do look after myself! I don't need you telling me what to do all the time as if I'm a baby myself. You know our situations are different. You _do_ work too hard, and you _do_ need to look after yourself." She put her hands on her stomach. "I am pregnant, which is a perfectly normal and natural condition. Millions of women are in the same condition. I am perfectly healthy. There is nothing wrong with me!"

"Whereas there _is_ something wrong with _me_ , and I should stay at home like a good little cripple, and be useless and pathetic," Matthew said bitterly.

"That is not what I said!" Mary protested.

"It is what you meant."

Mary felt ready to scream in frustration. "No it is not! For goodness sake, you're deliberately misunderstanding me! I meant only that… that I wish I could be left alone to choose what I do and don't do. In fact, right now, I want to go upstairs and find Rose, as she is the only one who doesn't fuss about me constantly. And I will not fall down the stairs and lose the baby, because if I thought there was a real danger of that happening, I wouldn't do it, because believe it or not, I care about this child that I have been carrying for months every bit as much as you do."

Mary pushed herself up from the armchair she had been sitting in and walked as quickly as she could out of their sitting room and to the stairs, Matthew following close behind her. She took a deep breath and marched up the stairs as fast as she could, looking back only once to make sure that Matthew watching her.

Matthew watched her walk upstairs and felt a mixture of anger at her, worry that something would happen to her, and overwhelming frustration that he had no way of following her upstairs. He sighed angrily, and after watching to ensure she got to the top of the stairs safely, he went back to their sitting room.

He sat staring into the fire. Watching Mary disappear upstairs had hurt. At a time when he was already feeling inadequate because of his stupid crippled body, she had run away from him and gone where he couldn't follow, and he had wanted more than anything to go up those stairs after her. And he couldn't. It was so unfair that the argument had ended on her terms; he had more to say, and he didn't see how they were going to make up talk through everything if she couldn't even bear the sight of him. They didn't argue often, but even when they did, neither of them had run away like this before.

She was being so unreasonable. He only wanted her to be safe and healthy, for her own sake as much as for the child, and she acted as if he wanted to lock her up and throw away the key. And what he had said about the way she fussed over him was perfectly true. He couldn't count how many times in the last few months she had told him he worked too hard and that he needed to look after himself. There was perhaps some truth in the fact that he was often tired after work, but it was nothing he couldn't cope with, and he refused to behave in the way a cripple was expected to behave. And he was fine.

His concerns for her, however, were perfectly reasonable. She was pregnant and she needed her rest, and she was not resting properly. He had only been trying to tell her this, because he loved her and cared for her, but she had suddenly lost her temper, and now…

He sighed and went to his desk. There was always work to do these days, so he blocked out all his worry and anger by burying himself in complicated cases and impenetrable contracts.

* * *

Mary, once out of Matthew's sight, leaned against a wall to catch her breath. It wasn't just that she had gone up the stairs faster than was sensible in her condition; she was just so angry. Matthew had deliberately misunderstood her, she was sure. She was not being unreasonable, and she was not fussing about him unnecessarily. It was perfectly true that he worked too hard, and it was perfectly true that she was as concerned for their child as Matthew or anyone else was. She was the one enduring all the discomfort and who would have to endure the pains of labour, something she didn't even want to think about. But it would all be worth it when she held her baby in her arms. It was ridiculous to suggest that she would do anything that would put the baby in danger. She wouldn't have come upstairs if she felt in danger of falling.

And now she began to feel a little guilt. Running off upstairs had been cruel. She hadn't meant to do it to get away from Matthew, but to prove that she _could_ do it, and to find Rose. But whatever her intentions, now she thought about it, she remembered the pain in Matthew's eyes when he had watched her go where he couldn't follow her, and she hated herself for causing it. She was still angry, but that didn't make her actions acceptable. Should she go back to him? She considered it, but decided against it; she really did want to talk to Rose, and she suspected that if she saw Matthew now, she would only shout again.

She made her way slowly to her old room, which was Rose's now. She knocked, and entered when Rose called 'come in'.

"Mary!" Rose said in surprise. "Why are you up here?"

"I'm sorry, Rose. I just need five minutes peace, and the company of someone doesn't fuss over me. Do you mind if I just sit here for a few minutes?"

"No, no, of course not," Rose said immediately.

Mary sat down in an armchair, and Rose flopped down on the bed. She watched her older cousin carefully as Mary closed her eyes, breathed deeply and tried to calm down enough to smooth out the frown that was creasing her forehead.

"Mary?" Rose asked carefully after a few minutes. "Have you argued with Matthew?" She thought that this was the only reason Mary wouldn't be able to get five minutes peace in her own room, and yet she wished desperately that she was wrong. Mary and Matthew seemed to her like the perfect couple, and the idea that the couple whose relationship she saw as the epitome of true love could argue was awful and frightening. She had seen them sparring at the dinner table often enough, but she had also seen that when that happened, they were often holding hands a minute later, or smiling at each other in a way that made Rose quite jealous.

Mary merely sighed, but this was enough to confirm Rose's suspicions. She felt bereft somehow.

"You were right about Eddie," she said after a minute. She was trying to distract herself and Mary with another issue which was important. "He is nice, and handsome, and I do think I love him, in a way. It's just… you're right that I couldn't live in that cottage and be a farmer's wife. I'll never be like Sybil. But… we've decided to be friends all the same. I know you won't approve, but there's nothing you can do to stop us, and he really is very nice. I preferred talking to him to kissing him anyway. But I do want to kiss _someone._ I want to have my season, and go to balls and meet people. You don't think it could be this year, do you?"

Mary blinked and thought for a minute, as she hadn't really been taking in what Rose had been saying.

"This year?" she asked when she realised what Rose had said. Rose's speech had definitely succeeded in temporarily distracting her from her own worries. "You can't possibly be serious! It's far too late to organise it now!"

"I'm old enough. And the Season is still months away. It's not fair I should have to wait. I know it's supposed to be next year, but really, I just want to have some freedom, and everything else matters very little to me, you know. Surely it could be organised in time?"

Mary stared at her. "Rose, that's mad. And it's not true that you don't care about anything else except freedom. Trust me, you will want it done properly. And honestly, I don't think Mama will have time to organise everything. And… well, I would dearly love to be there for your ball, but I think that perhaps it wouldn't be practical this year, what with the baby and… the rumours about me. And Edith will have her baby too, so…"

Rose frowned. Mary, as usual, was right. It really wasn't fair on Cousin Cora to make her organise everything in a hurry, when she was already being generous in promising to do it all next year. And Rose wanted all three of her cousins there, and didn't want Mary to be uncomfortable because of the whispering that was bound to follow her everywhere.

"I suppose you're right. But really, I can hardly be blamed for… what happened with Eddie, when I'm stuck here, in the middle of the countryside, forbidden from meeting any men who aren't either related to me, or deadly boring."

"Or both, in the case of Anthony," Mary added with a slight smirk. Making fun of Edith and Anthony had become second nature, and although she was aware that it was unkind and unfair, she meant no harm by it, and really, she just couldn't help herself.

Rose giggled, then sighed dramatically. "If only I could go to London. I know I'm not really supposed to be out before my Debut, but the world is such a different place now, and I only want to see some excitement and life."

"I'd take you to London myself if I could, but…" Mary said, gesturing to her stomach. "Perhaps I will be able to take you when the baby's born." She looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece and sighed. "Time for lunch."

She felt her heart sink. She was going to have to face Matthew, for lunch and then for their tour of the estate. Which she _was_ going to go on. She could plead tiredness, but she knew she would only be fussed over, and that was the very reason she had argued with Matthew in the first place.

* * *

Robert could tell immediately that something wasn't right between Mary and Matthew when they got into the car. They were too polite with each other, and the intimacy they usually displayed, which always made him feel rather uncomfortable, was absent. They both looked weary and unhappy, and barely spoke a word to each other, although they behaved more normally with him. It was distinctly odd and unsettling. Everyone in the house was used to their infrequent but explosive rows, but this seemed different. It wasn't anger that seemed to be the dominant emotion, but a sort of distant sadness and hopelessness. He didn't know what to do or say to make it better.

The tour seemed to go on forever. They talked to several of the tenants, looked at fields and livestock and discussed plans for the future, but all three of them wanted desperately to go home to escape the awkwardness of it all.

When they arrived back at the house, they found Isobel was taking tea with Cora, and had been waiting to see her son and daughter-in-law. Although under any other circumstances, both Mary and Matthew would have been delighted to see her, today was different. Mary simply wanted to go to her room, ring for Anna and have a good rant, then go to sleep and hope everything would be better when she awoke. Now she would have to sit through tea with the rest of the family and behave normally. Matthew was irritated by his mother's presence because he knew that she knew him and Mary too well not to notice there was something wrong between them, and the last thing he wanted was to talk about it, which would be what his mother would try to make him do.

Matthew was right. Almost the moment Mary and Matthew entered the room, Isobel could tell they had had an argument, and a bad one. Mary's expression was fixed into a cold smile, reminiscent of the one she had always seemed to be wearing when Isobel first met her. She put up a good front, but it was clear that she did not want to be there at all.

Matthew, less accustomed to and practised at disguising his emotions, simply scowled. When Mary sat down heavily on the sofa, Matthew didn't position his chair next to her as he usually did, but instead went to the opposite end of the sofa.

The conversation was stilted at best. Mary's false cheerfulness was almost worse than silence, and everyone ate far more cake and drank far more tea than they usually did, simply to give them something to do with their hands and an excuse not to have to talk.

When she could eventually stand it no longer, Mary stood up suddenly and excused herself, saying she was tired. There was silence for a minute. Isobel looked over at her son and tried to catch his eye; she needed to talk to him about what was going on. Matthew pretended not to see, but Cora did.

"Robert, will you come outside with me for a short walk? I want to talk to you about something. You don't mind, do you Isobel?" she said. Isobel shook her head, Robert caught on to his wife's intention and readily agreed to accompany her.

When they were gone, Isobel looked seriously at Matthew.

"Now, do you want to tell me what's going on?" she asked sternly.

Matthew continued to scowl, and looked away.

"Nothing. Everything's fine, Mother."

Isobel raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Everything is clearly not 'fine'. When was the last time either you or Mary went to lie down without the other following? Why has Mary suddenly reverted to her ice queen act?"

"Mary needs to rest, and I don't want to disturb her. And she's acting differently because she's tired," Matthew said, refusing to meet his mother's eyes.

"Matthew, I'm your mother, for goodness sake, tell me what's going on. You must think me very stupid if you think you can convince me everything's fine between you when all evidence points to the contrary."

Matthew sighed. He didn't want to tell his mother everything that had been said that morning, didn't want her interfering in his and Mary's personal problems. But at the same time, he was suddenly filled with a desperate desire to tell her everything; about Mary's unreasonableness and his own thoughtless words.

"She's just being so unreasonable, Mother!" he burst out. "She accuses me of fussing, but honestly, she's seven months pregnant! I only want her and the baby to be safe and healthy, but everything I do seems to be wrong. And this comes from her, who is always fussing over me! You know, she fusses practically every day I go to work. It's ridiculous; of course I'm tired when I get back after a long day, but I _like_ that feeling, I _like_ having been doing something useful all day. And I'm _fine_."

Isobel sighed, and despite the fact she was concerned for Mary and Matthew, she smiled; she remembered having similar arguments with Reginald when she was pregnant. They too had given up on the idea of children when she had suddenly realised that she was expecting. She remembered the joy and excitement, but she also remembered the extreme emotions, the discomfort, the resulting irritability and the way her beloved husband had been maddeningly annoying, with his medical textbooks and strict advice and over-cautiousness.

So she could sympathise with how Mary would be feeling, could see how stifling Matthew's over-protectiveness probably was. And as for Mary fussing over him, well, she did have a point. He had been spending so much time working, and had almost permanent dark circles under his eyes. It was one thing working hard and gaining satisfaction from it; she could understand that, as she had always felt the same way herself, as had Reginald. But it wasn't just Mary who thought that perhaps Matthew was exhausting himself more than was good for him.

"I know you will have heard it before, but you must realise that Mary's emotions are all over the place at the moment. I'm not saying that you can put everything down to that, but you mustn't take everything she says to heart. I know I was awful to your father when I was expecting you. And I know you hate anyone fussing over you, so remember that next time you behave in the same way towards Mary.

"As for her worrying about you, she's not the only one, I assure you. I'm immensely proud of you, you know, and I'm very glad you are to be made a partner in you firm. But you _are_ tired, and you do need to look after your health every bit as much as Mary does."

Matthew looked for a minute as if he were about to reply angrily, but then he seemed to deflate somehow.

"I just want a normal life, Mother. I have a beautiful wife, a good job, and now a child on the way. I just want the life I would have if I weren't stuck in this damned thing," he said sadly, gesturing to his chair. "But I can't, can I? I can work, but I have to be careful of how long I sit at my desk without moving, of how much work I can do before I get tired. And I'm going to be a father, but how will I ever be a proper father like this? I won't be able to fly a kite with my child, I won't be able to teach him or her to ride a bike or a horse, I won't be able to do anything a father is supposed to do. I just don't know how I'm going to do this, Mother."

Isobel reached out and took Matthew's hand, and squeezed it tightly. She recognised all the things Matthew said he wouldn't be able to do as things Reginald had done for him, and the memory of her dearly beloved late husband made tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes. And although it had been over three years now, she was still saddened when she thought of the energetic, active boy Matthew had been, and thought how horribly unfair the world was, that her darling boy, who would never willingly have harmed anyone, had been forced to fight and had been so badly injured. He did not deserve to feel that he would be an inadequate father because of the fact he couldn't walk.

"Matthew, listen to me. You will be a wonderful father. There is so much you will be able to do for your son or daughter, so you must stop focusing on those few things you can't do. Every new parent feels in some way inadequate, but your love for your child will be so wonderful, so all-consuming, you'll have no time to worry. Every parent must find their own way of doing things. You can't be your father, Matthew, and you shouldn't try. You must be yourself, and your child will love you for it."

Matthew opened his mouth as if to argue, but Isobel spoke again before he could.

"No, you will not argue with me over this; I'm afraid I know far more about being a parent than you do, so it's just not worth it. You and Mary will make fine parents, especially if you can stop being so stubborn, and actually talk over your problems with each other before it gets to the stage that you need me as a referee. Now, I am going to go and see how Mary is, and you are going to think over what you will say to her when you come to your sitting room in twenty minutes or so."

Isobel stood up and went out of the room and along the corridor to Mary and Matthew's private rooms. She knocked, and entered without waiting for a reply.

Mary was curled up on the sofa, staring blankly into the fire. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and she was holding a little stuffed toy dog that Isobel recognised.

She looked up at Isobel and sighed, expecting yet another lecture on looking after herself properly. _'You mustn't get upset like this, it's not good for the baby,'_ she imagined Isobel saying.

Isobel sat down in an armchair and looked sympathetically at her daughter-in-law.

"Are you alright, Mary?"

Mary blinked, evidently surprised by Isobel's quiet, sympathetic tone of voice.

"I'm… fine. Just… tired," she replied, trying and failing to keep her voice steady and calm. Isobel stood up to go and sit on the sofa, and put her arms around Mary. Mary's fragile composure shattered, her face crumpling as she started to cry quietly. Isobel said nothing, but simply held her and let her cry.

"I suppose Matthew told you about… earlier," Mary said quietly when she had composed herself somewhat.

"Yes. Do you want to talk about it?"

"What is there to say? Matthew is driving me insane, all with the best of intentions, and I am completely unable to control my emotions and say and do the right thing. We have been waiting for a child so long, have wanted one so much, I never stopped to consider that it might actually be hard being pregnant. Of course it's wonderful, but either I sit around the house all day and get bored, or I go out and get told off for not looking after myself and the baby. As if my baby doesn't matter to me as much as it does to everyone else! And then I say and do the most awful and stupid things." Mary broke off and took several deep breaths to prevent herself from crying again as she thought of what she had done that morning.

"I'm certain you have done nothing 'awful'. Being pregnant is wonderful, but it is not easy, and being a mother is even harder, I promise you. I'm certain nobody thinks you don't care about your child, they simply want the best for you. You really have to sympathise with men at a time like this; they simply have no idea what is going on or what they can do to help. I don't deny it is worse for us women in some ways, what with the discomfort and tiredness and the birth to come. But we have the magical feeling of a new life growing inside us, and we at least know what's going on. I know Matthew and Robert are making it difficult, but be patient with them. And it's less than two months now, so soon this waiting will be over, and you will have a beautiful baby to love and look after."

Mary tried to feel cheered and reassured, but somehow, despite the fact she understood everything Isobel had told her, and saw that it made perfect sense, that hardly seemed to help.

"I do know they mean well, and it's easy to be patient now. It's harder when I'm being told to sit here and do nothing all day if I don't want to hurt my child. I'm just so tired of it. Perhaps 'awful' isn't the best word to describe my actions, but stupid and thoughtless I can certainly be." Mary looked down and stroked the little dog gently.

"We argued this morning about the fact that I'm barely allowed to go upstairs, even though Edith does it every day, as does any other pregnant woman who has her bedroom upstairs. And I just wanted to prove that I can do it, that I won't fall downstairs or collapse suddenly, or whatever else Matthew expects to happen to me. So I went upstairs, to go to Rose's room. And I looked back at Matthew, and he was sitting at the bottom of the stairs watching me, and…"

Mary wiped away her tears and closed her eyes. "And… Oh Isobel, he looked so… sad, and so hurt. I realised as soon as I reached the top how cruel it was, but it was too late, and I was so angry, I couldn't go back to him."

Isobel's heart clenched as she saw in her mind the exact expression that would have been on Matthew's face and realised how it must have hurt him to see Mary disappear where he couldn't follow her. But Mary was crying again, and of course it wasn't her fault that things were as they were. Isobel pulled Mary close to her again.

"We all do things we regret. But nowhere in any of this have you or Matthew meant each other any harm. You just need to talk everything over calmly."

Mary nodded gratefully. Isobel suddenly noticed the little dog Mary was holding properly and frowned. She recognised it, but couldn't remember from where. Then it came to her.

"That little dog. It's your lucky charm, isn't it? I remember it, from that night when Matthew was ill, and you gave it to him, and he came back to us."

"Yes."

Isobel smiled and wondered again at the strength and depth of this young woman's love for her son.

"Mary, you need to listen to me now." She waited for Mary to nod before continuing. "Your love is strong enough to have survived four years of war, followed by more challemges than anyone your age should have to deal with. Of course it can survive a little argument like this."

Mary nodded slowly and sighed. "You're right, I know you're right. We'll be alright. It's just… I'm not sure _I'll_ be alright as a mother," she burst out suddenly, finally voicing what had really been worrying her. "I only know how to hand a child over to a nanny or governess, how to play with one for ten minutes. But that's not what I want to do. I want to be a proper mother, to look after my own child. I just don't know how. And I was never good with children like Sybil and Edith. I know I will love my child, I just don't think I'll be a very good mother.

"I was brought up to think of it as a duty, something I would have to do to provide an heir for my husband. And that was always supposed to be Patrick. I would have given birth to the baby, then handed it over to a nurse and only seen it for an hour or so a day. And if it had been a girl, everyone would have been so disappointed, like they were with Edith, Sybil and me. Then Patrick died, and my future was suddenly uncertain. My son would never inherit Downton, and I would have to provide an heir for some other estate.

"Then there was Sir Richard. My feeling for him went from indifference, to dislike, to hatred, and all along knew I would have to marry him and bear his children. And it seemed like a punishment for my mistake all those years ago. I began to wonder if there was a way I could not have his children, because I didn't want more people like him in the world.

"Then I made up my mind that whatever the consequences of breaking our engagement, I simply couldn't marry him. I resigned myself to the idea that I would never marry, because I expected him to publish any day, and then who would want me? I thought I would never have a child, and would die an old maid, living here on Matthew's charity.

"Of course, it wasn't long after that that I told Matthew everything, and he proposed, and I was so happy, the idea that I would never have a child seemed like the least important thing in the world. And it wasn't important. We were happy for months before we knew it was possible. It sounds terrible, but I barely thought about it except for Matthew sake. But when we did realise it was a possibility, I realised that it did matter to me, that I would do anything to have Matthew's child and to provide an heir. But even then, I didn't dare hope too much. We hoped for a while, but after a year or so, I stopped thinking about it.

"When I realised I was pregnant, I was so happy, and so was everyone else, and it was all so wonderful. But since then, the reality that I am actually going to be a mother, and a mother to a child who is wanted so desperately, and will be loved so much, has begun to seem… daunting. Because I don't want to be the kind of mother I would have been to any other man's child. I want to do everything right, I just don't know what 'right' is."

Mary sighed again, and Isobel reached out for her hand.

"That was quite a speech. I'm sorry," Mary said with a soft laugh that was almost a sob.

"No, no, don't apologise. You needed to say that, you needed to tell someone. And now you need to listen to me again, Mary. Every new mother worries that she will be in some way inadequate. I won't lie and say it's easy. But you will love your child, and you will do what is 'right' for him or her. And you won't be alone. You will have Matthew, and me, and your mother, and a nanny, and everyone else. You will make a wonderful mother, just as Matthew will make a wonderful father."

As if on cue, the door opened at that moment, and Matthew came in, looking nervous and apologetic.

Mary, seeing him look so uncertain, was filled with love and tenderness for him, and couldn't remember why she had been so angry before. They looked each other in the eye for a minute, then they both smiled, and Matthew wheeled himself towards her as quickly as he could, and they held each other and kissed, ignoring the awkwardness caused by Mary's swollen stomach, and the fact that Isobel was still there.

"Oh my love, I'm so sorry," Matthew whispered.

"Me too, Matthew, me too. I'm so sorry I ran away from you this morning. Truly, I didn't mean to; I just wanted to prove I could, and wanted to see Rose. I'm sorry," Mary replied.

"Oh darling, I know, I do know. I've been so stupid, I got angry so easily, without even listening to you properly. I do know you love our baby, and I know it's awful to have people fussing about you. I just love you so much, and I can't help worrying. If anything happened to you, and I could have done anything to prevent it, I would never forgive myself."

"I know. I know you're only trying to do what's best for me. And I'm sorry I fuss over you. I only worry because I love you too. And please, I have told you must never listen to the things I say, and now I must extend that to tell you to pay no attention to the things I do. You see, I'm barely in control of my emotions at the moment, and that's not something I'm used to."

"You don't need to apologise. I understand."

"I'm just… nervous, about being a mother," Mary whispered.

Matthew stared at her in surprise. "Oh Mary, you'll be a wonderful mother, you will! You have nothing to worry about. It's me who's not going to be able to be a proper father."

"Don't be ridiculous; you'll be perfect. You are perfect," Mary said, shocked that Matthew could doubt it. He was so loving and kind and gentle, and he was brilliant with children.

Matthew looked at her, his expression so pained it made her want to cry. "Mary, I won't be able to do any of the things my father used to do with me. I mean, I won't be able to…"

He was silenced when Mary put her finger over his lips, her other hand cupping his cheek. "Hush, darling. I don't want to hear a long list of everything you can't do. Don't you see how ridiculous that is? Whatever was going to be on your silly list, those are not the things that make a child love their father. Do you imagine Papa had anything to do with me, beyond the occasional kiss and sometimes letting me sit on his lap, until I was old enough to leave the nursery? Do you imagine he did anything on your list? Because he didn't. And yet, I love him very much because he is my father and while he has made mistakes, he cares for me very much."

Matthew opened his mouth to argue, but Mary kept her finger over his lips and continued to speak. "I'm not naïve enough to think it will be easy having a baby, for either of us. But it will be amazing and wonderful, and we will be so happy, and love him or her so much. We will find our own way of doing things. You will be such a good father, truly you will."

"And you will make such a wonderful mother," Matthew said, his eyes shining with certainty and faith in his wife.

They looked at each other, and for the first time, began to really believe what they were telling each other. They would be alright. Of course they would be alright. They loved each other, and would love their child enough that nothing else would matter. They kissed again.

Mary suddenly drew back and looked around the room, having suddenly remembered Isobel. But Isobel had left without them noticing as soon as they had begun to talk to each other properly. Mary smiled, and leaned in for another kiss. Months of worry faded away and she relaxed properly and concentrated on the moment. Yes, everything was going to be fine.


	16. Chapter 16

**_I am so sorry for the very, very long wait you have all had for this chapter! Rather than giving a long list of explanations and excuses I will just say that I have always intended to finish this story and I am still determined to do so, but the past year has been so hectic, I just haven't had time to write. Thank you to everyone who has left a review - I haven't been replying to them, but I appreciate them very much all the same, and will endeavour to reply more now I am back to writing._**

 ** _I hope there are still people interested in this story, which has been in my thoughts even when I wasn't writing._**

 ** _Enjoy!_**

* * *

How could the night be both too long and too short at the same time? It felt endless, this stretch of time in which she had to lie alone in the dark, unable to find a position comfortable enough to go to sleep. And yet the hours available for sleeping were slipping away fast, and she had barely closed her eyes.

This was the first night since before their marriage that she and Matthew had been in the same house and had actively decided not to share a bed. The situation wasn't born of any desire to be apart, but of desperation created by weeks of increasingly uncomfortable and restless nights.

This was the only thing that had not improved after their argument the week before. Everything else was sorting itself out and becoming easier now that they were being more honest and open with each other, and the days of these final few weeks before the baby would be born were lovely.

Yet no amount of talking and happiness could take away the difficulty of the nights.

The baby seemed to have chosen to be most active just when they were settling down to sleep, and the movements had become strong enough that they were no longer pleasant fluttering or reassuring prods, but distracting and uncomfortable kicks. When they were eventually asleep, the problems didn't end. Mary always awoke needing to relieve herself, and then could never get back to sleep. The presence of her husband, which she had always found reassuring and comforting, no longer seemed to help her. The normally relaxing sound of his breathing was sometimes irritating, and his warmth made her too hot.

If she did manage to get back to sleep, she would wake again in the early hours of the morning to help Matthew change position. Even this had become increasingly awkward as she got bigger and clumsier. He slept on his stomach more often so he did not need to turn, but after almost three years of doing so, Mary woke up at the same time anyway.

Their large bed often seemed too small now. Mary needed cushions and pillows carefully arranged around her growing stomach to get comfortable, and with the pillows Matthew needed to support him if he was lying on his side, the bed got uncomfortably crowded.

The previous night had been particularly awful; they had barely manged to get any rest at all and had ended up in a heated argument carried out in angry whispers. In the morning, Mary had said tearfully that she couldn't carry on like that for the few weeks, and so they had decided to try sleeping in separate beds.

And so here they were, spending the night alone.

And it wasn't better than the previous night, but worse.

Mary sighed and tried to rearrange her pillows to make herself even marginally more comfortable. Once she moved, however, she was reminded again of the cold emptiness where her husband should be. She was hit by a sudden wave of loneliness, which was utterly ridiculous given that Matthew was only a few feet away in the next room. Yet it was this very nearness that made it so difficult. She was in her own bed, their bed, in her own home, and her husband was nearby, and yet she was alone.

She hoped that Matthew at least was benefitting from the arrangement. She knew that she had made things difficult for him in recent weeks, and given that he didn't always sleep well anyway, she hated the thought of keeping him awake at night. She might hate this, but if he told her tomorrow that he had slept well, she would willingly continue to sleep apart.

* * *

Matthew sighed deeply and hit the mattress in frustration. He was tired and must have been in bed for hours, and yet sleep still eluded him. He simply couldn't relax. His mind was going over and over a particularly complicated case he was dealing with at work, and all the while worrying in the background about Mary and the baby. Vivid memories of Sybil being rushed to hospital for a dangerous operation flooded his mind whenever his thoughts drifted from work, and he couldn't rid himself of the fear that something was going to go wrong. If anything happened to Mary, he wasn't certain he could go on living.

Mary could always relax him and banish his worries with a kiss or a few whispered words of comfort, but alone in the bed in his dressing room, there was nothing to distract him from his troubling thoughts.

And it wasn't just his mind; his body wouldn't relax either. Lying on his stomach was not pleasant even at the best of times, but now, it felt like a form of torture. Having become accustomed to having Mary next to him in bed, he had forgotten quite how horrible it was to be so completely helpless and alone for so many hours. Now, the memory of all the hundreds of hours he had spent in this position came back to him with full force, and he wanted scream in frustration and discomfort.

But he couldn't make a sound. The purpose of sleeping in separate beds had been to give Mary a better chance at getting some decent sleep, and so _he must not wake or disturb her!_

He remembered his mother's instructions for when he couldn't sleep when he was a child: _think happy thoughts._ But he couldn't do it. Happiness was Mary and the baby, and their absence was the source of his inability to sleep. Thinking of them only made him worry more about the coming birth and pushed sleep further from his reach.

It was hopeless. He would have given up on trying to sleep and sat up to read for a while, but he was so tired, and the effort involved in sitting up from his current position on his stomach was too much to contemplate, especially as he doubted a book would be able to distract him anyway. There was a chance Mary would hear him too, even through the closed door between their rooms, and if she heard, she would come through to help him. And _he must not disturb Mary!_

He wondered how it was possible to be so tired that he had spent the day yawning, and yet be unable to sleep. He hated to admit it even to himself, but he was now very glad he was working much shorter hours now. It wasn't Mary's fault, and he didn't blame her at all, but he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. And there was still over a month – _six whole weeks!_ \- to go. And of course, if Mary chose to nurse the baby herself, there would be many more weeks of sleepless nights.

Difficult as it was sharing a bed, however, tonight was proving that _not_ sharing a bed was no better, and was definitely far more lonely.

For a moment, he contemplated raiding the draw in his bedside cabinet that contained his medications. He knew there was a sleeping draught, as well as the laudanum he took when the pain in his back was bad, and it would be so very easy to knock himself out for a few hours. He didn't have to be in work until one the next day, so it wouldn't matter if he were still a little groggy in the morning. But the thought lasted only a moment before he dismissed it. He would regret it in the morning, he knew.

He hoped that Mary was faring better than he was. If she was, he was of course willing to sleep apart from her for as long as she needed him to. He would get used to it, he was sure. And if he didn't, he would still do it for Mary's sake.

He closed his eyes and hoped desperately that sleep would come quickly.

* * *

By four in the morning, Mary had had enough. She knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that she was not going to get to sleep now, and she couldn't bear the thought of lying there in the darkness on her own for even a minute longer. The servants wold be getting up to start their long days soon, she thought, and she had barely slept at all.

 _I hope you know that really smart people sleep in separate rooms,_ she had said to her father once, so long ago that the girl who had uttered those words seemed a stranger to her now. How little she had known of love, how little she had understood the simple comfort of having the person you love most of all so close. The girl she had been then would have thought her weak for needing her husband like this, and part of her still wondered if that was true. But no, it wasn't about strength or weakness; her marriage was built on their mutual need for each other, and that signified nothing but how strong their love was.

She had no desire to wake Matthew, but she might be able to slip into his bed without waking him if she was careful. His bed was small, but he would be tired after the many nights of poor sleep she had caused him, and she had managed it before.

She couldn't quite suppress a quiet groan as she pushed herself up from the bed, and she smiled wryly to herself as she wondered whether she would even be able to stand in a month's time. She crept as quietly as a woman in her condition could to the door that connected their bedrooms and pushed the door open cautiously.

"Mary?" Matthew said immediately.

"Yes darling, did I wake you?" she asked, walking more quickly over to the bed.

"No," he replied, reaching his hand out for her to take. "I couldn't sleep without you. I was hoping you would come."

"I couldn't stay away," she whispered. She sat down carefully on the edge of the bed and took his hand, squeezing gently.

"Come under the covers, darling, it's cold," he said softly, and even in the darkness, Mary could see the gentle concern in his eyes. She smiled.

"You must be desperate to get off your stomach," she said.

"God, yes, I am," he replied. "But I know it's awkward for you to help me now. I'll be alright for the few hours we have until we have to get up."

"No, no, I can help. You barely need my help anyway. And I don't think either of us are getting up early tomorrow. You don't need to go into work early do you?"

"I don't have anything important until after lunch. But you're still not under the covers, and I want to share my bed with my wife, not a block of ice. Come on."

He awkwardly tried to pull back the covers. He didn't manage very well, but Mary got the message and slid under the covers, snuggling close to Matthew's warmth; he was right about the room being cold.

"I missed you," he murmured.

"I missed you too," she whispered.

He pushed up on his forearms and leaned over to kiss her. She reached out and ran her hand through his soft hair. Whatever problems they encountered sharing a bed at the present time, this was why they would always be better together.

"Now, side or back?" Mary asked when they drew away for breath.

"Darling, if I lie on my side, there won't be enough space for both of us and our pillows in the bed."

They looked at each other and laughed.

"Alright, back it is then."

It was even more awkward then usual in this smaller bed, but they managed it, and when Matthew was settled on his back and Mary had arranged her pillows around her stomach, they both sighed at the same time and relaxed.

"Sleeping apart doesn't help, does it?" Matthew said after a while.

"No. I'm sorry darling, I know I'm making everything difficult at the moment."

"You're not, Mary. You're carrying our child, and it's not easy, I know, but it's not long now. Now go to sleep, my love. I love you very much, both of you."

"I love you too," she said, her voice already sleepy as she settled down.

That was the last night they tried sleeping apart. The nights did not get easier, but there were no more arguments in the early hours, and as the days went on, the end was in sight. With naps in the afternoon, it didn't matter so very much if they slept poorly, and they settled into waiting through these last few weeks together.

* * *

"Only a month to go," Mary murmured, placing her hand over Matthew's as he gently stroked her stomach, feeling the baby moving inside her. Even now, so many months after he had felt it for the first time, Matthew's eyes held that same expression of awe that had appeared that first miraculous moment in November when the baby had first kicked hard enough for him to feel. He would never tire of this wonderful sensation, and Mary would never tire of watching his enjoyment of it.

"A month is too long," Matthew whispered; the peace was too perfect to break by speaking out loud.

Mary hummed in agreement and closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax completely.

They were lying in bed in the middle of the afternoon, having come to an agreement in the wake of their argument a few weeks ago that they would both rest each afternoon, regardless of how busy they were. Matthew had spoken to his colleagues, and it had been decided that he would be able work from home much more for the remaining weeks of Mary's pregnancy. His presence made Mary's long days seem less empty, and her desperate need to fill the hours with estate work and other distractions diminished.

This was just one of the changes that had come about when, after the awful day when their supressed anxieties and fears had finally erupted into their worst argument in years, they had promised to be more open with each other about their worries. They had spoken at length about their concerns about their abilities to be good parents, and while neither yet felt confidence in themselves, they had each had enough confidence in the other to allow them to look forward to the birth of their child with more excitement than fear.

Preparations for the new arrival were now almost complete. They had devoted many hours to shopping for clothes and toys, and to decorating the nursery with the assistance of their mothers. After interviewing what everyone else considered to be a ridiculous number of nannies, they had finally found a woman whom they both agreed would be perfect.

Now, lying in bed, sleepy and lethargic after making love, they both felt more relaxed than they had in months. They had slow, relaxing jazz playing on their gramophone, which they had had moved to the bedroom for the day.

Mary shifted position slightly and grimaced. "Don't you complain about the wait; I'm the one who's got to go around feeling like a whale for the next month. And at the end of the month…" Mary broke off and swallowed hard. The truth was, she was more than a little nervous about the birth. Images of Sybil's long, painful labour, and memories of the very real fear that she wouldn't make it wouldn't leave Mary's mind, and her mother and Isobel's attempts at reassurance had not been very reassuring. All they had really said was that it would be worth it when she held her baby in her arms.

"Oh Mary," Matthew whispered. "I wish there was a way I could do it for you. But you will be fine, darling. You are so strong and so brave, I know you will be fine. I won't let anything happen to you."

They both started suddenly when they heard a knock on the door. They looked at each other in confusion. They were only usually disturbed at times like this if it was time to dress for dinner and Anna guessed they had fallen asleep. It was far from dinner time now.

"Hello?" Mary called, slowly trying to sit up, quite a challenge now because of her size.

They were both surprised when it was Cora's voice they heard through the door. "Anthony's just called; the pains were real contractions this time. Edith's finally gone into labour. And it's definitely not a false alarm this time."

Mary gasped and carefully stood up, hastily put on her dressing gown and opened the door. There had been even more false alarms with Edith as there had been with Sybil, and it had begun to feel as if the baby would never come.

Cora's face was pale and her eyes were bright when Mary looked at her.

"How long?" Mary asked.

"I'm not entirely certain; Anthony wasn't in much of a state to tell us anything useful, but I gathered that it started a while ago. They're already at the hospital. How soon can you be ready? She's asking for both of us. If you can't come yet, I'll go and send the car back for you," Cora said hurriedly.

"No, I can be ready in a few minutes. Did Anthony sound alright?" Mary said.

Cora allowed herself a quick smile. "What do you think? Men really are hopeless at times like this. I'll be waiting in the library when you're ready."

Cora left, and Mary closed the door after her. She rang for Anna and William, and true to her word, she and Matthew were ready within minutes. They had decided it might be a good idea for Matthew to go to try and distract Anthony.

The drive to the hospital was not long, but that afternoon, it seemed to last forever. While everyone had been nervous when Sybil had gone into labour with Emmeline, it had not been anywhere close to how they felt now. Sybil had nearly died, and it was only because of Dr Clarkson's quick thinking and well performed caesarean that she had made it. While nobody mentioned it, that was all anyone could think about. This was the reason Edith was to have her baby in the hospital.

When they reached the hospital, Matthew waited outside the private room, while Mary and Cora went in. They found Edith looking remarkably calm, her hair neatly plaited and the sheets clean and tidy. A nurse was sitting a few feet back from the bed, and Dr Clarkson was asking Edith a few questions. Anthony was fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt and trying and failing to look calm. They all looked up when Cora and Mary knocked and came in, and Edith's face broke into a smile.

"Mama, Mary, thank you for coming so quickly. I fear you may have quite a long wait; Dr Clarkson says it will be a while yet."

Mary looked around for a chair, and seeing there wasn't one, sat down on the bed next to Edith.

"You must promise me now, Mary," Edith said seriously, "you will not stay with me all the time. You must look after yourself, and Matthew would skin me alive if he thought you were overtiring yourself for my sake."

Mary smiled and laughed. "Don't worry about me; it's not terribly taxing to sit next to you on the bed, you know, and it's you who will be doing all the hard work."

Edith smiled too, but it soon turned into a grimace as she felt another pain coming. Anthony stood up and turned to stare at Dr Clarkson with wide, frightened eyes. Mary reached out and took one of Edith's hands, and Cora took the other. Edith moaned, but very quietly, mainly because she didn't want to alarm Anthony; he was terrified enough as it was. When it was over, Edith was soon back to calmly reassuring her husband that everything was going to be fine.

When it was soon decreed that it was time Anthony left the room, it was a relief to everyone. He had been so nervous and jumpy, his presence had been more of an irritation to Edith than a reassurance, and his obvious fear was beginning to affect her.

Edith's calm and serenity were slowly disintegrating, and her neatly plaited hair was dishevelled, wisps of it stuck to her forehead with perspiration. The pain was becoming constant, and contractions were simply a worsening of the pain. With each one, Edith put less effort into holding back her screams, and she soon gave up entirely. She was sure the whole village must be able to hear. Not that she cared. It hurt too much for her to be able to think of anything else.

Mary held her sister's hand tightly, giving any reassurance she possibly could, which was not much. She had never got on well with Edith, and as a small child, had fanaticised about ways in which Edith could be lost or kidnapped or adopted. But she could never have wished this pain on her. The way Edith's face was contorted in agony scared her, and she could hardly bear to hear the screams that told of pain too great to be expressed in words. She wished there was something she could do to make it better, but there was nothing she could do but murmur comforting words, and simply be there for her sister.

But although she knew all her attention should be focused on Edith, the worst of it was that she was horribly aware that this would be her in only a month's time. Of course she had known giving birth was painful; she had been with Sybil for much of her labour. But clearly she had forgotten quite how bad it was, because this seemed a hundred times worse.

Mary watched as a nurse checked how Edith was doing, and shuddered. This would be her too, abandoning all shreds of dignity as her body became public property and strangers looked at her where only Matthew should.

The nurse took Dr Clarkson aside, and Mary watched them whispering together, their brows furrowed with worry. Something was wrong, she knew it. She felt her heart drop and looked at Edith who had her eyes closed and was moaning loudly as Cora wiped her forehead with a cool cloth and whispered to her that everything would be alright. But Mary was somehow sure that everything was not alright. And she needed to know.

She stood up carefully, realising that she was very tired, and that perhaps she ought to rest. She pushed this thought to the back of her mind and determinedly went over to the doctor.

"Please tell me what is going on," she said in a tone which was at once perfectly polite and impossible to ignore.

Dr Clarkson looked at her, still frowning, and said nothing. Mary raised her eyebrows and gave him a hard stare. He looked away first.

"The nurse believes the baby is breech, which means it is not in the correct position for birth. If this is correct, the birth is going to be rather more… complicated."

Mary nodded. "But still… possible? They will both be alright?"

"I can't promise anything, Lady Mary, but I have successfully delivered many breech babies in my career. It's a complication, certainly, but not necessarily a disaster."

"But it means it's not going to be over for some time?"

Clarkson nodded slowly, then looked properly at Mary and took in how pale and tired she looked. "You must rest, Lady Mary. You have been with Lady Strallen for hours, and you must be careful not to overtire yourself, considering your condition."

Mary sighed. She couldn't argue that she was fine, because in fact she was hot, tired and uncomfortable. "I shall stay with my sister while you explain the situation to her. Then I shall rest."

Dr Clarkson nodded, then went over to check the nurse's diagnosis, finding it correct. He explained the situation to Edith, but she was in too much pain to listen.

"Just get it out!" she screamed. The pain was so bad, it didn't seem possible that anything could make it worse.

* * *

Outside in the corridor, Matthew watched as Anthony paced up and down. It was almost unbearable for him to be listening to Edith's screams, and he could only imagine how much worse it must be for Anthony. And worse, he knew that in only a month, it would be Mary's screams he would be hearing. Even the thought was unbearable.

"Anthony, why don't we go outside for a few minutes, get some fresh air?" Matthew suggested, hoping that a change of scenery might help calm Anthony a little. And the screams would be quieter outside.

Anthony stopped pacing and stared at Matthew as if he had forgotten he was there. He blinked several times, then shook his head.

"I can't. What if she needs me?"

"You do realise they won't let you in until the baby's born and Edith's ready for you? We men are entirely useless in these situations, apparently. You won't help her by having a heart attack or a stroke from the worry."

"I know. Alright."

They went outside and were surprised when they saw how dark it was. Matthew checked his wristwatch, and his eyes widened when he saw how late it was. He would need to lie down soon. They made their way to the little garden and Anthony sat down on a bench. It was fortunate that the weather was unusually mild for February, as even wrapped in layers of coats and hats and scarves, it would usually have been too cold to stay outside for long. As it was, it was not uncomfortable.

"I'm too old to be doing this for the first time," he said quietly. "I don't know what to do. Robert's been through this four times before, three daughters and a granddaughter, and he's younger than I am. I thought I would never be a father. After so many years of marriage to Maude with no child… When she died, I thought that was it. I thought I was old and ready just to live out my days alone. And I was ready for that. Even when I finally married Edith (thanks to you, in the end, and you have my undying gratitude), I thought I was far too old.

"But here we are. I'm old enough to be a grandfather, and I'm sitting here waiting for the birth of my first child."

"You're not that old, Anthony," Matthew said, smiling slightly. "My father was a similar age when I was born. It doesn't make any difference to anything."

"I'm certain, however, that your father at least had the use of both arms. And I don't suppose I need to point out that we both lost out fathers when we were young. That is not something I would wish on my child, and yet in all likelihood, Edith will be left a young widow with a young child. I'm not unwell, but the ailments of old age are not far away for me. I don't expect to have the joy of seeing my child through to adulthood."

"Nor do I," Matthew said bluntly. "I'll be lucky to see my child reach an age at which he or she can remember me when I'm gone. But you just can't think like that Anthony, you can't live like that. You have to be there for Edith and your child for as long as you can be. You have to live each day as it comes, or you can't be fully there for your family. Anything could happen to any of us at any time, but we can't live our lives waiting for the worst."

"But how can I be a proper father like this?" he said, gesturing to his arm lying motionless in its sling. "I'm not certain I could trust myself even to hold my child."

Matthew sighed and looked down at his legs. He wanted to reassure Anthony, but on this point, he was not certain he knew the answer.

"I don't see why you couldn't hold a baby with one arm," he began, "and even if you can't, there are more important things you can do to be a father to your son or daughter than that." He was trying to remember everything his mother and Mary had said to him when he had finally admitted to worrying about his inability to do many of things he wanted to with his child.

Anthony opened his mouth to reply, but a particularly loud and agonised scream caused his words to die in his throat and come out as a groan.

Matthew tried and failed to come up with something helpful to say. He pushed up on the arms of his chair to adjust his position, and the way his arms shook with tiredness reminded him again just how long it had been since Cora had told them that Edith's time had come. He was feeling the strain, and all he had been doing was sitting. Edith… he could hardly bear to think about what Edith was going through.

They sat in silence for a while, until another loud scream made Anthony groan again.

"I don't think I can ever put Edith through this again. I don't think I can put _myself_ through this again," he muttered. "Oh God, what if something happens to her? It's been hours. I know she's having a hard time of it. Surely that amount of pain isn't normal?"

"I don't know. I'm afraid that perhaps it is. From what I've gathered over the years from my parents…" He broke off and shook his head.

"But surely…? I mean, it is a natural process, how can it be that this is normal? This child is our miracle, but what if something goes wrong? I've been so happy about the baby, I barely considered this."

Matthew sighed. "You must just have faith in the doctor," he said, knowing it was inadequate, but unable to think of anything better.

"I'll be sure to tell you that when you're in my position," Anthony said.

Matthew paled at the thought. "I'm afraid I may be in an even worse state than you when that time comes. Our child is our miracle too, but if anything happened to Mary…" Matthew shuddered. "It just seems so damned unfair that it takes two to make a baby, but birthing one falls solely to the women. And the pregnancy too."

Anthony didn't even acknowledge that, and buried his face in his hands.

They were silent for what felt like a long time, each lost in their own thoughts and fears, Edith's muffled screams the only sound to pierce the night until they heard hurried footsteps on the path.

"Oh, there you two are."

Matthew and Anthony looked up in surprise at hearing Mary's voice.

"Is there news?" Anthony asked frantically, rising quickly to his feet.

"Edith's doing well, but I'm afraid the doctor says it will be a while yet," Mary said, wishing she had better news. She was glad when Anthony responded only by giving a stiff nod and sitting down again. It had been decided that Anthony did not need to know quite how much of a hard time Edith was having of it, or any of the details that would only upset him more. Mary rather wished that she didn't know the details herself.

She walked over to Matthew and murmured in his ear, "The car will be here to take you home in a minute. Do you realise how late it is?"

"Yes, I did check the time," Matthew said quietly to Mary. "But I can't leave now." He looked briefly at Anthony, telling Mary without words that he couldn't leave Anthony now.

Mary nodded in understanding, but didn't relent. "You have to get out of your chair. It will be a while yet, you should go to bed. Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"I don't have to be in too early," Matthew said dismissively. He looked at her with gentle concern. "What about you, darling? You look so tired. Surely this stress can't be good for you?"

"I'm fine. Your mother has had a room prepared for me at Crawley House so I can be nearby, but still get some decent sleep. I'll rest soon, I promise, but I can't go home. I have to be ready in case Edith needs me. But you need to go to bed."

Matthew ran through the possible alternatives in his head, dismissed each one in turn, then sighed, knowing she was right. He had promised Mary to take care of himself so she didn't worry for him, and he knew that he needed to lie down sooner rather than later. In truth, he doubted he was doing any real good in trying to reassure Anthony anyway. He didn't have the knowledge or experience to help and he suspected he was probably making things worse with his own worries for Mary. Perhaps Robert could come.

"Alright, I concede. I wish you would come with me, but I can see this is an argument I won't win, so I won't even try. But promise me you will rest properly, no matter what is going on with Edith, or I won't go."

"I promise. I don't think I'll be _able_ to stay up any longer anyway, and your mother certainly won't let me. I'll go and lie down for a while as soon as you've gone home. I'll make sure someone telephones with news as soon as there is any."

"Do you think Robert would come?" Matthew asked quietly, gesturing discreetly towards Anthony, who was staring blankly at the ground, completely ignoring their conversation.

Mary thought for a moment. "I think he will, if he's asked to. He won't be sleeping well anyway. Yes, perhaps that's best. Suggest it to him. But darling, you really must sleep properly yourself. Don't stay up half the night like you did when Emmeline was born. If you're too tired to get to bed on your own, ring for William."

"I will. And I'll try my best to sleep." He was quite sure he wouldn't succeed, but he needed to do all he could to ensure that Mary didn't worry about him when she was clearly already terrified for her sister.

They heard a car draw up on the road outside the hospital.

"Perfect timing," Mary said.

They explained to Anthony that they were leaving to get some rest and that Robert wold be there to keep him company soon, but he barely acknowledged them. Realising that he was likely to remain alone on the bench in the dark until someone told him to move, Mary led him inside and asked a nurse to bring him tea. Feeling she had done all she could, she went back outside.

"I feel awful leaving him," Matthew said as they approached the car.

"And I don't feel right going to bed when Edith is having such a hard time. But there's nothing we can do, and it's late. Go home and get some rest, darling, and I'll do the same."

"Alright, I will, as long you…" Matthew began, but broke off when his mother appeared beside them.

"I will ensure Mary rests well, Matthew. Don't waste a moment worrying," she said. "Now, get into that car and go home."

Matthew did as he was told, and when the car had disappeared on the way back to Downton, Mary allowed Isobel to take her to Crawley House. Isobel led her to Matthew's old room, a room he hadn't slept in since his last leave during the war. There was little that belonged to him left here, but it was still comforting somehow to know that she would be sleeping where he had slept. Isobel helped her prepare for bed, and she arranged Mary's pillows so well, Mary almost wanted to ask her to move to Downton and do this for her every night until the baby came. The soothing, motherly care calmed Mary enough that neither worry for Edith nor Matthew's absence kept her from sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Matthew received the good news by a telephone call from his mother, just minutes before his meeting began: Maude Edith Strallen, finally born at seven minutes to ten, mother and baby both in excellent health, both now sleeping. Anthony was so happy, he could barely string together a coherent sentence. Mary had been with her sister for the last two hours and had now gone home to rest, but she would like to meet him at the hospital to visit the new parents together as soon as he could get away from work.

Matthew had never found it so difficult to concentrate in a meeting. He was desperate to see the new arrival, desperate to see his wife and feel his own child move, desperate to be at home to celebrate the happy outcome of Edith's long, gruelling hours of labour.

He left work as soon as his meeting had finished, only staying long enough to cheerfully inform Jonathon of the birth of his niece.

The journey back from Ripon seemed to take twice as long as usual, and Matthew drummed his fingers impatiently on his unfeeling legs as he stared out of the window at the bleak but beautiful winter countryside.

Mary had evidently been waiting for him at Mother's house, as she came out to meet him just as he was settling himself in his chair. She leaned down to kiss him quickly, and he reached out to touch her bump and feel the baby; he couldn't seem to stop himself doing that now.

"You're earlier than I dared to hope," she said, smiling as she moved his hand to where she could feel the baby moving.

"I said I would be back before four, did I not?" he replied, his lips turning up into a smile that matched hers.

"You did, but I have learned to add thirty minutes or so to the time you give me; you always spend longer at work than you intend, and you always underestimate how long the journey back will take. I'm impressed at your punctuality, but you see darling, you have now proven to me that you can be on time if you so wish, and I will expect you to do the same in future."

"I will endeavour to live up to your expectations," he replied.

"You will do more than endeavour, Matthew," she said, her tone teasing, but with a serious undertone that made him feel a little guilty when he thought about it and realised she had a point about his predictable lateness. He was never late for work in the morning, but coming home, he always seemed to get distracted at the last minute, or be caught in a conversation with someone or other.

"Anything to please my darling wife," Matthew said, before turning to nod at the chauffeur to help him up the tiny but inconvenient step in the gateway. Mary followed as he carefully manoeuvred his chair up the ramp, through the narrow doorway and along the crowded hospital corridor. She was itching to help him, but she knew that if she did, he would (rightly) tell her that she shouldn't be doing so at her stage of pregnancy. Why the entrance to a hospital of all places was not perfectly easily accessible in a wheelchair she would never know. Matthew managed well enough without her assistance, however, and they soon found Edith's room.

They found Edith sitting up in bed holding her daughter, with Anthony sitting on a chair next to her and gazing at the baby with incredulous adoration. For a moment, Matthew wished he had a camera to capture the happy scene.

Mary drew up a chair on the opposite side of the bed from Anthony and after a moment's thought, Matthew stopped his chair next to Anthony, the memory of their conversation the previous night still fresh in his mind.

"How are you feeling?" Mary asked after the greetings and congratulations had been said. Her tone was light and caring, but Matthew could detect the anxiety in her voice; they were both very aware that this would be her in only a month's time.

Edith sighed. "Very tired, and rather sore, but quite well considering." It wasn't entirely a lie, she thought to herself; she did feel very well considering the agony of the past day and night, and she had no desire to mention the extent of the pain. She had needed stitches in places she didn't even know one could have stitches, and had been told it would be weeks before she felt quite normal, but with two men and her heavily pregnant sister in the room, it did not seem appropriate to mention it.

"Good, I'm glad," Mary said sincerely. The memory of her sister's screams of agony would not leave her for some time, she suspected, but she was glad to see Edith looking so surprisingly well.

Matthew looked at Anthony. "And how are _you_ feeling?" he asked.

They looked at each other for a moment, remembering the conversation of the previous night.

"Happier than I knew I could be," Anthony replied eventually. "When I saw her, everything else just… melted away. I don't know how, but we're going to make it work."

Matthew smiled at him and hesitantly reached out to touch his arm. He was never quite as relaxed and at ease with Anthony as with Tom, and emotion and physical contact was awkward between them. They were not alike in personality, interests or opinions. Yet they understood each other in ways that Tom could never truly comprehend; they understood what it was to live through the horrors of war, to come home broken in body and spirit, to find love and happiness they struggled to believe themselves worthy of, to face a life forever altered and to live it well anyway.

Perhaps if Anthony could make it work, so could he.

"I'm glad," he said quietly, echoing what Mary had said to Edith.

"Would you like to hold her?" Edith asked Mary.

Mary inhaled sharply. It said so much about the change in their relationship that Edith had offered, and it was still a shock every time she was reminded that she was no longer at war with her sister.

"I would love to," she said softly. She stood up and took a step towards the bed. She looked down for a moment at Maude's scrunched-up newborn face, ugly and heart-meltingly beautiful at the same time, before Edith carefully passed her up, trying and failing to conceal a wince at the pain the movement caused her. Anthony reached for her hand, concern in his eyes, but Edith shook her head and smiled.

Mary was unaware of this, her attention consumed completely by her newest niece. The weight in her arms felt at once surprising and natural and she moved her arms without conscious thought to support the baby properly. She felt tears in her eyes, and she blinked hard several times to get rid of them. It was only tiredness, she told herself, or her pregnancy affecting her emotions. But oh, how she loved this tiny creature in her arms, the child of the sister she had never been able to get on with and the man she had mocked as a bore.

 _I can do it,_ she thought to herself. _I can be a mother. If I can love and hold Edith's child, I can look after my own. I can do it._ She looked across the bed at Matthew and saw that he was staring at her in awe, his mouth hanging slightly open and his eyes soft and loving. _We can do it. Together, we can be parents._ She smiled at him and he beamed back at her. _One month to go._

* * *

In the car on the way home, Matthew replayed the scene in his head, watching Mary hold the baby so naturally and smiling at him. In only a few weeks, it would be their own baby she would be holding like that, and the thought made him happy enough to burst. He had always known that her fears about being a mother were entirely groundless. She might not coo over babies in the way many women did, but that did not make her any less caring or capable.

When he looked at her to see if her mood matched his own, however, he saw that she was frowning. She was staring down at her hands, obviously worrying about something. They were both becoming a little more accustomed to the ever-changing moods and emotions caused by her pregnancy, but it still disturbed Matthew a little when his usually calm and unflappable wife was suddenly upset for some unknown reason. He considered asking her what was worrying her, but thinking about it, he realised it would be better to wait; she would not tell him in the car with the chauffeur. Instead, he reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed a little and squeezed back. He rubbed comforting circles on the back of her hand, trying to convey that whatever the problem was, he was there and he would help.

Mary appreciated the gesture, and tried to prepare in her head what she would tell him when he inevitably asked. He would not like what she had to say, but she knew she could not leave it long to tell him. _Only one month to go._

Robert and Cora met them at the door, asking question after question about the wellbeing of their daughter and granddaughter. Mary pleaded exhaustion and excused herself, leaving Matthew to deal with it. He answered their questions as quickly as possible before excusing himself to check on Mary.

He had not expected to find her singing cheerfully or smiling when he entered, but nor had he prepared himself for finding sitting on the edge of their bed with tears in her eyes.

"Darling! What's wrong?" he asked urgently, moving quickly to her side of the bed, his heart beginning to pound.

Mary looked at him, and shook her head. "I know you're going to hate what I'm going to say, and I'm so sorry, darling."

"Whatever it is, my love, I'm quite certain I won't hate anything you have to say. What is it? Darling, you must tell me, you're worrying me."

She took both his hands in hers and looked him in the eye. She took a deep breath, before crying in a rush, "I can't have the baby at the hospital, Matthew, I can't."

Matthew frowned. They had agreed on this months ago, after what Sybil had gone through. They both wanted the baby to have the best chance they could give him or her. "Why?" he asked softly. "My darling, you know it's much safer, and after how hard it was for both your sisters…"

Mary shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. "But that's just it, Matthew. When I was with Edith, all I could think of was how awful it was for Sybil. Because it really was awful. Her screams, and then the sudden silence when they put her to sleep to operate… You weren't there, but it was terrifying, Matthew. We all thought…"

"But she was fine in the end, because she was well looked after in hospital. It's safer, and you know I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you."

"I know, Matthew, and I want out baby to be safe too. But I just can't have the baby at the hospital. After watching Edith going through it all… I just can't. I would almost certainly be in the same room, and I don't want to be thinking of that. Her screams, Matthew, she was in so much pain, and it lasted so long. I don't want to be thinking about it when I'm…" she broke off, shaking her head.

"But why are you suddenly worried about it now? You were so happy at the hospital, holding the baby."

"I was, I know, but then… when the nurse asked us to leave to let Edith rest, and then Edith moved, and I could see she was in pain… it all just came back to me, and I could almost hear her screaming. And then I thought about Mama crying in fear when Sybil…" she stopped again, pressing her lips together.

Matthew reached up to brush away a single tear that had leaked down her cheek. "My darling, it's all over now. Both your sisters are fine, and you will be too. But surely what happened with Sybil and Edith is an argument in favour of being in the hospital. It's safer, and everyone would feel so much happier knowing you were in the best place if anything did happen."

"But _I_ wouldn't feel happier, Matthew," she said desperately. "Mama had all three of us here, and she was perfectly fine. The future heir should be born at Downton. This is my home and I want my child born here. This is where I feel comfortable, this room where we have been so happy, not the hospital that holds so many bad memories. Clarkson can still be here, and your mother, and Sybil should be home by then too, and we can even hire a nurse if it will make you happier. You see, I have thought this through. It will be easier for everyone. There will be no need for coming and going to the hospital all the time, and everyone can sit and wait in comfort, or go to bed without being far away. You can't sit up all night like Anthony did, you know you can't, and if I was having the baby in the hospital, you would refuse to leave. At home, you can lie down right next door if you want, or in your old room further down the corridor. You must see it makes sense."

Matthew frowned. He could not argue with her logic. It would, in many ways, be easier for her to have the baby at home. And her comfort and happiness should certainly come before his preferences, or anyone else's. The problem was that he did not wish to put her comfort above her safety and regret it if something went wrong.

"I want you to feel comfortable, darling, of course I do, but I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you," he said after a moment.

"But it would not be your fault," she insisted. "It is not up to you to allow me to choose where I have the baby. It is my decision, I simply wanted to discuss it with you and have your support if Papa or anyone else objects. And nothing will happen to me. Clarkson has been perfectly happy with everything since I first saw him in September, and most women give birth at home anyway."

"I know. I know everything will probably be fine. But Mary, I couldn't live without you, I truly couldn't, and this baby…" He placed his palm on her bump, his eyes softening. "This baby is our miracle. I can't help worrying when I love you both so much."

Mary opened her mouth to speak, but Matthew placed his finger on her lips gently. "Hush, darling. I'm sure you're right and all will be well. Seeing you holding the baby… I was so happy. Let's not ruin such a joyful day. We can discuss this further another time. For now, perhaps you should get some rest."

"Only if you stay with me," she whispered in reply, her worried expression relaxing into a smile.

"I will always stay with you my darling," he replied. He went around the other side of the bed and hauled himself up onto the mattress. He settled on his back, and held out his arms to Mary. She lay down next to him, relaxing fully as she realised how tired she was and how much she needed this rest and comfort.

"You're not saying no?" she asked quietly.

"I'm saying, we do not need to discuss anything that causes you worry right at this moment. We have a month to decide, Mary; that's plenty of time. For now, please try to relax. We have a beautiful new niece, and Edith is going to be perfectly well. In only a few weeks, we will have a beautiful child of our own. I love you both so much, my darlings."

"But you're not saying no. Which means you will eventually let me do as I wish, even if you don't know it yet. I love you too, darling," she said, smiling. "As I am sure baby does." She gasped and reached out to grab his hand. "Here, feel this, baby agrees."

Matthew almost laughed in delight at the surprisingly strong kick he felt where Mary had pressed his hand to her stomach. "Everything is going to be alright," he stated. He knew his worries would return by tomorrow, but for now, in the sanctuary of their bed, they felt far away.

"Yes. Of course it will be," Mary agreed. "And I'm always right."

Matthew chuckled softly, smiling as they settled down to rest, dreaming of the future he was so looking forward to.

"One month to go," he whispered in awe.

"One month to go," Mary agreed.

* * *

 _ **I would love to hear** **what you think of this chapter - it's the first thing I've written in months!**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Thank you so much for the lovely responses to the previous chapter! I'm so glad people are still enjoying this story.**_

* * *

Mary sighed irritably and threw her book down on the sofa next to where she was sitting. It was no good, she simply couldn't get comfortable enough to concentrate. Her back was aching horribly and she had a pain in her stomach like the cramps that came with her monthly cycle. The pain had been getting steadily worse, but she hadn't mentioned it to anyone; she knew it was her body practising for the birth, since that was what had happened for both Sybil and Edith. There had been so many false alarms with both of them, she wasn't going to make a fuss when she knew there was no point. If anything, it made her feel a little smug that she knew not to bother Clarkson with this, like her sisters had. She had more than three weeks to go, and she was not going to start making a fuss now.

Thank goodness Matthew was at work today, and therefore wasn't here to worry and fuss. In all fairness, he had been much better since their argument, but she was sure that this would have him telephoning the doctor and worrying the rest of the family for no reason. He, like everyone else, was still a little shaken by Edith's difficult labour.

She still hadn't managed to get him to agree to her having the baby at home. She was certain she would succeed eventually, but he was still concerned that it would be too dangerous if something went wrong. She did understand, but she had to make him see that she felt safer at home, away from sick people and bad memories. Every time she went there she would remember: _there's the chair I sat on trying to comfort Mama when they put Sybil to sleep, thinking she might never wake up; that's the store cupboard I cried in for half an hour after telling Matthew he would never walk again; this is the room where Edith went through the worst pain I have ever seen anyone experience._ She couldn't have the baby in the middle of that, she knew she couldn't.

The best plan she had come up with so far to convince him was to persuade Isobel that it was a good idea. Surely Matthew would be unable to argue with his mother, with all her medical experience. She would bring it up the next time she saw her mother-in-law, she decided.

Another cramp brought her back to the present. Perhaps walking would help. She slowly pushed herself to her feet, wincing at the pain in her back. It was driving her insane, and it was worse than ever today. Her back had been aching for months on and off, and had got worse in the last few weeks as she had grown and grown until she wasn't sure how she stayed upright. And there were still over three weeks to go. Three more weeks of this, and then perhaps more; Sybil and Edith had both waited close to a week after their due dates before they had finally gone into labour, getting more uncomfortable with each day that passed.

She hadn't wanted to tell Matthew about her backache at first; it seemed so pathetic to complain when it was something he had to live with so much of the time. But he knew her too well, and had noticed.

 _"_ _You can complain as much as you like to me, Mary; I promise you, you will be hard pushed to find anyone who will understand as well and sympathise as greatly as I do."_

He massaged her back every night now, and it made the difficult task of getting to sleep so much easier.

As she thought of that, she began to wish he was here, so he could do it now. She could bear his fussing, if only he could make the pain better, and talk to her in that calm voice that she found so reassuring.

She had eaten breakfast in their sitting room, and had only seen her mother briefly that morning when she had sat in the morning room for half an hour with her. After that, she had had to go back to the privacy of her own rooms to lie down, sit, pace, anything to distract her from the discomfort and help her find a comfortable position. Sometimes it would ease slightly, and she would relax and be able to read properly, or really rest. But it always returned, and she would have to move again.

If only Sybil was here. The few weeks before her arrival seemed so long. Mary wanted to know how her sister had got through this. Edith was still in the hospital (Dr Clarkson had wanted to keep an eye on her for a while after the long and traumatic birth), so she had nobody to talk to about it.

She went over to the window, leaning on furniture, as walking was not easy with the ever-present pain. She saw a figure walking up the path. Isobel. She remembered suddenly that Isobel was coming for tea with her, and didn't know whether to be glad or annoyed. She wanted a distraction and some company, but she didn't want anyone fussing, and she knew there was no way Isobel with all her medical training would fail to notice the pains. She could put her off, tell Anna to inform her that she was sleeping.

But no. She really did want company. And in all honesty, she wanted reassurance that this really was what Edith and Sybil had had, and not something… wrong. Because although she was trying to convince herself that it really was nothing, she admitted to herself that she was worried, and part of the reason she didn't want anyone to see her and realise was that she was terrified they would tell her something was wrong, and somehow she would rather not know. But that was ridiculous; if something was wrong, it was far better that someone knew.

She made her way slowly over to the bell cord and rang for Anna, then sat down slowly in an armchair, resting her hands on her stomach and trying to breathe deeply and calmly.

When Anna arrived, Mary did her best to be calm and act normally as she asked Anna to tell Isobel to come to her private sitting room for tea, rather than the library as usual.

* * *

Matthew sighed and closed the file he had been reading, or trying to read, for the past hour. He couldn't concentrate. He had come into work for a meeting, but the client had been taken ill at the last minute, so he had found himself with some time to catch up on paperwork. Except that he hadn't really caught up on anything. His mind kept straying to Mary. He hated leaving her now she was so close to her time, and although he told himself Ripon was not far away, and anyway, she had her family with her, he couldn't help worrying.

Today was worse than ever. Mary had slept badly last night, unable to get comfortable, and this morning he had been able to tell that she wasn't feeling quite right, even if she had waved away his concern and said it was only her back aching and the baby moving. He could sympathise with the back pain, and knew that 'only' probably wasn't the most appropriate word to use to describe it. When his back was bad, it was impossible to ignore the pain. He couldn't sleep well, couldn't sit comfortably, and could only find relief in lying on his stomach and having Mary massage the pain away. But of course Mary couldn't lie on her stomach, and he wasn't there to give her a massage.

He wondered if he should go home, but he knew he really couldn't. He had another meeting later, and he really couldn't miss it. Mary would be fine, surely, with Cora there for her? And Anna. And Mother was going up for tea, he remembered. In fact, he thought, checking his wristwatch, she ought to be there now. That thought relaxed him slightly, and he opened the file again.

* * *

"Good afternoon Mary dear," Isobel said affectionately, walking over to embrace her daughter-in-law.

Mary, who had risen from her chair when she heard footsteps in the corridor, smiled and returned the embrace. "Hello Isobel."

They both sat down, Mary with a quiet groan she couldn't contain.

"How are you?" Isobel asked, watching Mary's face carefully.

"Tired, uncomfortable… I'm not sure I can stand three more weeks of this," Mary said, attempting a smile, but failing, and instead giving a rather pained expression. She winced as she felt another pain in her stomach, and to reassure Isobel, she looked up and said, "The baby's kicking quite hard today."

Isobel continued to watch her with concern.

Mary noticed, and decided to turn the conversation away from herself.

"How are you?" she asked brightly.

"Well, thank you. It's been busy at the hospital in the last week, so I've been there most of the time. A few cases of influenza and a couple of cases of pneumonia as well as the usual ailments."

Mary gripped the arms of the chair at the mention of pneumonia. During the winter, when so many people were coming down with colds and flu, worry for Matthew was with her always. She shuddered. Isobel saw and reached out for her hand, squeezing it gently. Mary looked into her eyes and saw understanding. Isobel knew her well enough to understand that acknowledgement of her concern and a silent promise that she was not alone in her care for Matthew was far more reassuring to her than the usual unsubstantiated statements that all would be well.

She breathed in sharply as another wave of pain hit her, and to distract Isobel, asked,

"Have you seen Edith?"

Isobel had noticed, but answered Mary's question anyway, continuing to watch her closely.

"Yes, I dropped in this morning. Little Maude is doing very well, and Edith's doing much better now. She's still tired though, and sore. Anthony barely leaves her side, and from what Edith said, he spends hours just watching Maude. Dr Clarkson says they can go home tomorrow or the day after if all continues to go well."

Mary could barely prevent herself from frowning each time Maude's name was mentioned. She had given little thought to it at first, but after a few days to consider, she thought it more than a little morbid. Honestly, both Anthony's wives, and in order? Matthew said it was none of their business, but really…

Anna arrived with the tea, poured them a cup each, and at Mary's nod, left them again. They sipped their tea in silence for a minute. Mary was trying to decide how to bring up her desire to have the baby at home. If Isobel would agree it might sway Matthew's opinion, but Mary knew she had to present her argument carefully.

She was spared the awkward beginning she had been dreading when Isobel asked gently, "Is there something worrying you?"

"Not worrying me exactly, but there is something I would like to talk to you about," Mary replied. She continued before she lost her nerve. "I want to have the baby at home. I understand why everyone is worried, but I feel happier here, more relaxed." She looked up to judge Isobel's reaction, but her expression gave nothing away, so Mary continued. "The hospital… I know it's safer, but I have too many bad memories of it, from the war and Edith and Sybil. Everyone would be so much more comfortable at home while they waited, and if it takes anything like as long as it did for Edith, Matthew will need to lie down for a while, which will be so much easier here. And after what you said about influenza and pneumonia, I don't like the idea of Matthew being anywhere near sick people. Actually, I don't like the idea of the baby being around sick people either, now I think about it."

Isobel looked at her meditatively. "You have been thinking about this a lot, haven't you? Have you spoken to Matthew about it?"

"I have. He is… willing to consider it, but nowhere near convinced."

Isobel nodded as if she had been expecting that reply. "You understand that if something does go wrong, everything will be far easier in the hospital?"

"Of course I do. But there is no reason to expect anything to go wrong. Sybil had signs of preeclampsia early on; a headache, swollen ankles. Edith had a more difficult pregnancy than me all the way through. I have been perfectly well since the morning sickness stopped. If everything goes normally, it will be easier at home."

Isobel seemed to be considering that. "I have always advocated allowing the woman the choice of where she gives birth, as long as there are no obvious risks or complications," she said slowly. "I had Matthew at home. Although my husband was a doctor, so my situation was rather different. The worry is that there is some suggestion that the chances of both preeclampsia and breech birth are related to inheritance. As far as I know, there is little solid evidence, but it may mean you are at greater risk of both complications. However, given that we know what to look out for, we can be especially vigilant in checking for signs… In truth, I don't believe you are likely to have any problems."

"So you agree with me?" Mary asked hopefully. "You think it would be safe?"

"Yes, I do. I believe that the best place for you to have your baby is wherever you feel most comfortable. If that is here, then this is where you will give birth, unless you show any sign of complications. And I agree with you about the risks of illness at the hospital, if things don't begin to improve there within the next week or so."

"Then will you speak to Matthew? He won't disagree with your knowledge and experience, especially as he is already half-persuaded," Mary said, relief flooding through her.

"Yes, I will. Of course he will worry about the risk of complications, but I believe influenza may be the greater danger, for you as well as the baby. All will be well, my dear, try not to worry about it."

"Oh, thank you Isobel, I'm so- aah!"

Mary suddenly gasped and spilt half her cup of tea, crying out in surprise and pain as the hot liquid seeped through her clothes. Isobel rushed over and took Mary's cup and saucer, then looked seriously at her.

"Mary, are you alright?"

Mary was massaging her back with both her hands, and gave up pretending.

"My back's been aching all day, worse than it has done, and now I have these horrible cramps too. You know, what Edith and Sybil had. My body practising, or preparing, or whatever it was Clarkson said. I barely slept last night because of it." She watched Isobel's face worriedly, and added, "It is that, isn't it?"

Isobel seemed to study her, and Mary's heart began to pound. There was something wrong, there must be something wrong. "Isobel?" she almost whispered.

Isobel saw Mary's terror, and her expression softened. "It's alright, Mary, I'm sure everything's fine. Now, how long have you been having these pains?"

Mary thought. "Since last night. I think I had the first one just after dinner." She had thought little of it at the time; it had felt odd, but not painful. She had almost said something to her mother, but then thought better of it, not wanting Cora fussing and crowding her. She was still not on the best of terms with her mother.

"And how often is the pain coming?" Isobel asked.

"I… I'm not sure. My back hurts all the time, but in my stomach, is comes and goes every few minutes I suppose." She pressed her lips together for a moment to try to remain calm, before asking desperately, "There's nothing wrong, is there?"

"No, you mustn't worry. How bad is the pain?"

"It's not too bad. Not now. But when the contractions come, it's… pretty bad. Will it stop? I know it was bad for Edith, but it was on and off for Sybil. Is there anything I can do to make it stop?"

Isobel didn't answer Mary's question, but asked, "Is it getting worse? Or are the pains coming closer together?"

Mary thought for a moment, then nodded. "I think…"

She broke off suddenly and screwed her eyes shut as another wave of pain hit her, worse this time. She reached without thinking for Isobel's hand and squeezed it hard, pressing her lips together tightly, waiting for it to ease.

"Just breathe, Mary, it's alright, just breathe," Isobel said reassuringly.

Mary did as she was told, focusing on that rather than the pain and the mounting worry. After a minute, she opened her eyes, and looked at Isobel. "I'm sorry, that must have hurt your hand," she said, her voice a little shaky.

Isobel shook her head. "No, no. It's fine, Mary. My hand is here whenever you need it. And I think you are going to need it." She took a deep breath. "I don't want to alarm you, but considering how long this has been going on, and how bad the pain seemed that time, I don't think this is your body practising; I think your baby is coming."

Mary gasped and stared at Isobel. "But… I should have over three weeks. And Edith and Sybil didn't go into labour until a week after… I thought… It can't be coming now," she said, panicking. "Surely… I mean… I'm not ready, the baby can't be ready." The arrangements for where she would give birth had not been sorted out yet, Isobel had not yet spoken to Matthew about it, her parents might argue…

Isobel laid a hand on Mary's shoulder. "One of the things I've learned in my many years as a nurse is that when a baby decides it's ready, there's not much you can do to stop it. You're not too far from your due date, and predicting when a baby will be born is not an exact science. There's no reason the baby shouldn't be perfectly healthy. You will just have to be ready."

"But… no, it can't be… Sybil's supposed to be here!" Mary began, but she was interrupted by a knock on the door. Before either Mary or Isobel could answer, the door burst open and Rose came in.

"Mary, I've got something to… Oh, hello Cousin Isobel! Anyway, Mary, I've just come back from Ripon, and I went to the dressmakers and my new dress is ready! Almost a week early! I just went to see how it was getting on, and they said it was ready, so I brought it home with me. Can I show you? I'm going to wear it for dinner tonight, but I wanted to show you first, you always have such beautiful clothes. Do you mind if I change in your bedroom? I won't be long, it's one of those styles you don't need a maid to help you into, but perhaps after I've changed, you could ring for Anna to do my hair, so I can see how it looks properly, but…" She broke off, finally taking in Mary's pale face and pained expression. "Mary? Oh my God, are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't see you were… Is it the baby, is everything alright?"

"I'm fine. Just… Rose, perhaps now isn't the time to see your dress," Mary managed to say, trying to breathe normally and stay calm. Isobel couldn't be right; surely she couldn't be having the baby now? It was too soon, the nursery wasn't ready, _she_ wasn't ready.

"Oh my God, the baby's coming, isn't it?" Rose said, partway between excitement and fear.

"No, it's…" Mary began, but Isobel cut across her.

"Yes, Rose, I believe the baby is coming. I think it would be best if you went and informed Cora."

Rose stared at Mary for a moment, then rushed off.

Mary breathed a sigh of relief at being away from Rose's excitement and enthusiasm again. She was not really in a condition to deal with it now. She was quiet for a minute, feeling her heart beating horribly fast, and hoping Isobel was wrong. Except she knew now that Isobel wasn't wrong, and she supposed a part of her had suspected for quite a while.

"You're right, aren't you? The baby really is coming. Oh God, what if it's like it was for Edith? I'm already too tired for it. I'm not ready, Isobel. I…"

They both looked up as they heard footsteps running down the corridor and Cora came into the room, her eyes wide.

"Mary, is what Rose says true?" she said. Mary looked up, and the fear and nervousness in her eyes told Cora all she needed to know. "Oh my darling. It's alright, you don't need to worry about a thing. I'll telephone Dr Clarkson to say to expect you, then I'll come back and be with you, alright my darling girl?"

"No, Mama, I'm having the baby here," Mary said firmly. "I was born here, and I want my child to be born here."

"But Mary, I thought-" Cora began, before stopping as Mary closed her eyes briefly as another pain hit her. She gripped the arms of the chair and concentrated on breathing evenly as Cora reached out and stroked back her hair gently. The action was familiar to Mary from childhood illnesses and it soothed her. She wanted her mother as she could not remember wanting her since she was still in the nursery. The awkwardness that had existed between them since September seemed insignificant compared to this simple comfort only her mother could give her.

"I see no reason she shouldn't have the baby here," Isobel said briskly. "She feels more comfortable, and with the influenza cases at the hospital… and I'm not sure it's sensible for her to get in a car now. All that jolting and bumping around… I think her labour started quite a while ago without Mary realising it, and at this stage, it might be better not to move her."

"Alright. I see. Yes, of course," Cora said quickly. "If that is what you want, my darling, that is what will happen. I'll telephone Clarkson to come here."

Mary smiled at her mother, infinitely glad to have her there, and to have her support. With Mama and Isobel agreeing with her, Matthew and Papa would just have to listen.

She looked up at her mother, suddenly remembering the most important call that needed to be made. "Matthew. Mama, you have to telephone Matthew too. I need him. I can't do it without him. Please, Mama."

Cora nodded, squeezed Mary's hand quickly and went to the hall to make the calls.

"You won't want him in the room until it's all over, you can trust me," Isobel said gently.

Mary didn't answer. Of course Isobel was right, men were not supposed to be in the room when a woman was giving birth, it was not right. She knew this, of course she did, and it was true that she didn't want him seeing her in the state she expected she would be in shortly. There would be nothing he could really do to help. And yet… she only felt truly whole when he was with her. They were always together. They relied on each other, needed each other. This was going to be hard, she knew that, and whenever anything was hard, they stayed together. Always.

But of course he couldn't be with her when she was giving birth, it simply wasn't done. She would just have to manage without him.

"Let's get you to bed, shall we?" Isobel suggested gently. Mary nodded, and Isobel pulled her carefully to her feet. Almost immediately, she sat down again, gripping the arms of the chair as she felt the pain hit her again. Of course this was labour, how had she not realised it?

"Breathe, Mary, remember? It's alright. You're doing fine," Isobel said.

Mary wasn't sure how failing to realise she was in labour, then panicking when she realised she was, was 'doing fine', but she wasn't in much of a state to argue.

"Come on, we'll get you to bed, and you can change into something more comfortable. I'll ring for Anna, shall I?" Isobel said when she saw Mary relax. Mary nodded, and they made their way to the bedroom. The familiar atmosphere of the bedroom immediately made Mary feel better; how comforting this was compared to a hospital room! She remembered the day they had looked around these rooms, the morning after they had announced their engagement. ' _We are going to be so happy here,'_ she remembered saying, and they had been. She needed Matthew so much. Even knowing he would be in the next room, in the house even, would be enough. _Oh Matthew, please come quickly._

* * *

Matthew checked his papers, then placed the file on his lap. He knew he needed to attend this meeting, but he was gripped with a vague feeling of worry and agitation that would not go away. He wanted to go home, just to be completely certain that Mary was alright. It was mad, he knew, but he couldn't help feeling strongly that she needed him.

"I'm being ridiculous," he said, making himself jump when he realised he'd said it out loud. He laughed at himself; he really was ridiculous. The meeting was only in the conference room, a short way down the corridor, but he needed to leave now as he wanted to have a word with Jonathon before everyone else arrived. He looked down once more to check his legs were set straight and that the file wasn't about to fall, and was about to open the door when it was opened suddenly by Helen, his secretary.

"Oh!" she said in surprise, seeing him so close when she had expected him to be at his desk. "Telephone for you, Mr Crawley. It's Lady Grantham, and she says it's urgent."

Matthew felt his heart drop. Something had happened to Mary, he knew it. It wasn't a stupid feeling that she needed him: she did, and he wasn't with her. Oh God, what if she had fallen, or… He shuddered at the thought of some awful accident happening while he was here, and wheeled himself to the telephone as quickly as he could, hardly noticing that the file had fallen to the floor.

"Cora? Is everything alright? Is Mary alright? What's happened?" he blurted out, not giving her time to answer him.

"Matthew, calm down. Mary is perfectly fine, but… don't get in a state, but she's gone into labour, and she's going to have the baby at home. The car has already been sent for you, so you won't have to wait long," Cora said, speaking as quickly as she could in order to prevent Matthew from interrupting before she had told him everything important.

Matthew hoped desperately that he had misheard. "What?" he asked, his voice coming out high and panicked.

"The baby is coming, and Mary is going to give birth at home. The car will be there for you soon," Cora repeated patiently.

"But… Oh God... it's over three weeks early! Is she going to be alright?" he asked, barely able to hear his own voice over the pounding of his heart.

"Yes, it's early, but everything should be fine. Babies are born early all the time, Matthew. Dr Clarkson is on his way, and your mother is here. There is no reason everything should not go perfectly well."

"But… the hospital. We hadn't agreed… Is it safe to… Oh God, is it happening so quickly I won't be home? Is she-" Matthew could barely string a sentence together. This was all so shocking and so sudden…

"Of course it isn't happening so quickly you'll miss it. It will be hours yet, but Isobel thinks it's safer for Mary not to be moved now, and apparently there are influenza cases at the hospital. Mary will be perfectly safe at home."

"But…" Matthew began again, without having thought through what he was going to say.

"Just try to stay calm, Matthew. Now, I must go to be with Mary."

"Of course. Right. Yes." He took a deep breath. "Send her my love, and tell her I'll be home as soon as I can."

"I will. Now try not to worry too much. We'll see you soon."

Cora hung up the telephone, and Matthew sat in a daze for a few seconds. Try not to worry? What a ridiculous thing to say. It was too early, and Mary wouldn't be in the safe environment of the hospital. How could he not worry?

"Mr Crawley? Are you alright?" Helen asked carefully, having already guessed the substance of the conversation.

Matthew started and looked up at Helen as if he'd forgotten she existed. "The baby is coming. Now," was all he could get out.

Helen smiled to herself. Men really were to be pitied when a child was involved, and Mr Crawley seemed to be taking the worry particularly badly.

"Shall I make you some tea? I find it helps at times like this. And I'm sure your car will be here soon," she said kindly.

Matthew managed a nod. For the first time, he cursed his job. Mary was in pain and almost certainly frightened, and he was not with her. He should be with her, but he was here, at work. He should have stayed at home when he had first suspected something wasn't right that morning. What was wrong with him? What kind of husband went off to work when his heavily pregnant wife so obviously needed him? He had gone because he had 'important meetings', but what meetings could compare to Mary?

He slowly made his way over to the window to watch for the car.

* * *

"Mr Carson?" Anna said tentatively. "Are you… alright?"

Anna had run downstairs, almost straight into Carson, and when asked sternly why she felt the need to run, she had blurted out without thinking that Lady Mary's baby was coming. Carson had stared at her, and his face had suddenly turned very pale. Anna had watched him nervously for a while, realising that she should have prepared him better for the news; she knew he looked on Mary almost as a daughter.

Carson slowly pulled himself together; falling apart and worrying would not help Lady Mary.

"Quite alright, thank you Anna. I shall… inform everyone," he said.

Anna would have stayed, but she was in rather a hurry, and Carson was left standing alone in the corridor, his heart beating very fast and his usually cool head failing him. It was too soon. It was almost a month too soon.

"Mr Carson?"

Carson jerked his head around to see a concerned Mrs Hughes studying his face critically.

"Lady Mary has gone into labour, and she will be having the child here," he managed to say.

Mrs Hughes avoided rolling her eyes at this, ignoring her own thoughts about Lady Mary and how worthy she was of Mr Carson's devotion. While her opinion of Lady Mary had improved since she had married Mr Matthew and become a slightly softer version of the cold, uppity Lady Mary Crawley, Mrs Hughes still doubted that the woman was worth the amount of worry she cost Mr Carson.

But now was not the time for such thoughts.

"Come on, you are going to sit down in your room and have a cup of strong, sweet tea," she said decisively.

"But I must…" Carson began, before he trailed off, unable to think coherently enough to decide what he should do.

"No, you mustn't. What you must do is stay calm, and I will sort everything out."

Carson submitted, and allowed himself to be led to the butler's pantry. He sat down heavily and waited for the tea, worrying all the while.

* * *

"How long do you think Matthew will be?" Mary asked, worry creasing her brow as well as pain. "I don't think I can do this without him."

"Of course you can do this without him, but it's alright, he will be here soon, don't worry," Cora said gently, rubbing circles on Mary's back, remembering how that had helped her when she was having Mary all those years ago.

Mary tried to believe her, but couldn't. She did need Matthew, desperately. Dr Clarkson had finally arrived after what seemed like an age, but there was still no sign of Matthew.

Isobel had taken the doctor aside to explain how everything was going. He raised his eyebrows when she told him how long it had been going on, nodded to everything she said, then went over to the bed to ask Mary a few questions, glancing every now and then at Isobel to remind her to let Mary answer for herself.

"Now, Lady Mary, will you allow me to check your progress?" he asked. Mary blushed deeply, realising what he meant, but she knew she would have to submit, to abandon all dignity until she held her baby in her arms. She tried not to think about it as the doctor lifted the sheets, keeping one hand clasping her mother's hand, one clasping Isobel's.

"You're doing well, Lady Mary," Dr Clarkson said with a slight smile, before drawing Isobel aside again to discuss his examination with her. Mary, still bright pink, concentrated on breathing as Isobel had told her to.

* * *

Robert strolled slowly back towards the house, deeply absorbed in his own thoughts. He had been on a long walk, going nowhere in particular, but simply wandering, thinking over some of Matthew and Mary's new plans for one of the farms, and then just enjoying the familiar scenery as he walked along paths he had known since before he could remember. He enjoyed these solitary walks, and as he approached the house, he was aware that he was in a very good mood.

He turned when he heard the sound of the car approaching, then coming to stop outside the house. He saw Matthew's chair strapped to the back of the car and frowned. He was sure Matthew had told him he would be working late. He quickened his pace and reached the door just as Matthew did.

"Matthew! We weren't expecting you until much later. I thought…"

"Robert, haven't you heard?" Matthew asked breathlessly.

Robert looked at him hard and took in Matthew's bright, wide eyes and worried expression. "Heard what?" he asked worriedly.

Before Matthew could answer, the front door was flung open to reveal Rose. She was talking before Robert even had time to wonder why she of all people had opened the door.

"Oh, there you are. We thought you'd never get here! Come in, quickly," she said excitedly.

"Is she doing alright?" Matthew asked worriedly. "Is Clarkson here yet?"

"The doctor is here, but I'm not sure how it's all going; they won't let me in. Anna's guarding the door," Rose replied, sounding a little put out.

"Will someone please tell me what in God's name is going on?" Robert asked loudly. Clearly there _was_ something going on, that everyone else seemed to know of but him.

"Oh, I forgot you didn't know, Cousin Robert," Rose said apologetically. "Mary's baby is coming."

Robert paled. "What? Here? Now? But…"

Matthew didn't wait for Robert to finish a sentence, but went immediately towards the bedroom where Mary was. He didn't care if he wasn't supposed to be in the room with her. He needed to see her, to talk to her, to help in any way he could, however limited that help might be. If he was forced to leave immediately, at least he would have seen her.

As he approached the bedroom, he heard a hum of voices, but thankfully not the screams of pain he had feared. He went through to their sitting room, and saw Anna waiting by the door to the bedroom. She started when she saw him, then smiled.

"Oh, Mr Crawley, Lady Mary will be so glad you're home. She's doing well, but she'll do better now you're here."

"Can I… go in?" Matthew asked, suspecting he already knew the answer.

Anna frowned. "Well, Mrs Crawley told me not to let anyone in, but Lady Mary will want you with her, I'm sure. I'll go and…"

"Matthew?" Mary called through the door. "It that you?"

"Yes, my darling, I'm home. I'm so sorry I wasn't here when it started. May I come in?" Matthew called back.

He heard footsteps, and his mother came out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"Matthew, it's best if you go and wait in another room. Is Robert home?" she said.

"Yes, but…"

"Go and wait with him then," Isobel said firmly.

"Darling, please come in. I need to see you," Mary called before Matthew could reply.

"Matthew, I don't think…" Isobel began, but Matthew was already through the door and going to Mary's side. If she needed him, he would be there. She smiled at him, and in that moment, he thought her the most beautiful woman in the world. Her dark hair was tied in a loose plait, and curly wisps of it had escaped and were framing her face. Her cheeks were pink, and when she looked at him, her eyes were bright and full of love.

He reached out for her hand and they both felt that thrill they always felt when they touched.

"Oh darling, I'm so glad you're here," Mary whispered. "I'm scared, you know. I need you."

"I know," he murmured back. "And I'm here for you. Oh Mary, you're so strong and so beautiful and so brave, you don't need to be afraid."

Mary suddenly breathed in sharply and closed her eyes, and Matthew felt her squeeze his hand so hard it hurt. Not that he minded. All that bothered him was that she was in pain.

"What can I do, darling?" he asked, feeling utterly useless.

"Just… talk to me," Mary muttered between gritted teeth. "Distract me. Work. How was work?"

Matthew stared at her for a moment, slightly confused, then obliged. "Quite dull, as it happens. I had two meeting scheduled, but the first was cancelled, and the second started about twenty minutes ago, so clearly I'm not attending. So I've had rather an idle day. That is, until your Mama telephoned. Although I suppose I shall still have rather an idle day, while you do all the hard work." Matthew hardly knew what he was saying, but talking about nothing seemed to help Mary, as she was nodding and seemed to be listening.

"I think Helen was secretly laughing at me. I'm afraid I acted rather oddly after Cora's call, and…"

He broke off as Mary opened her eyes and breathed deeply, seeing that the pain had receded for now.

"I'm sorry, I'm talking rubbish," he said ruefully.

"I don't care. I wasn't really listening. Your voice is so calming, you know," Mary replied, looking into his eyes and managing a slight smile

"I wish there was something more I could do," he said, holding her hand tightly.

Mary shuffled carefully closer to the edge of the bed and sat forward slightly. "Actually, there is something you can do: a back massage would be very welcome," she said. Matthew happily obliged. The angle was awkward, but his discomfort was nothing to Mary's, so he ignored it.

"Matthew, you can't stay," Isobel said gently, and Mary and Matthew both looked at her, startled by her voice, as they had almost forgotten there was anyone else in the room.

"I'll stay until Mary wishes me to leave," Matthew replied firmly. "I will leave not a moment before, and not a moment after."

"I want him, _need_ him with me," Mary said, equally firmly.

Isobel and Cora exchanged looks, rolling their eyes at their children's stubbornness.

"Mary, it is simply not done," Cora said. "And believe me, you won't want Matthew here later; there is a reason men wait outside with their brandy."

"Well, when 'later' comes, he can leave. Until then, I need my husband with me. If anyone has any objections, please know that I don't care, and won't listen," Mary said, and Matthew smiled at her in support.

Cora sighed. "I'll just go and let Robert know what's happening," she said, deciding not to argue with Mary over something she was bound to change her mind about soon.

Isobel talked quietly with Dr Clarkson in a corner of the room, giving Mary and Matthew some peace and privacy.

"I will fight to stay, if that's what you want," Matthew murmured.

"To be honest, I don't know what I want, except for this to be over, and for us to be holding our baby," Mary replied.

"It _will_ be over soon. Oh Mary, why didn't you ask me to stay home with you today? You were in pain this morning, weren't you? You should have said. No meeting I could possibly have could be even near as important as you. I should have known, I should have seen that…"

"Don't be ridiculous. I didn't realise myself what was happening until your mother told me. I thought it was my body practising, like what happened to Edith and Sybil. You couldn't possibly have known."

"I knew something wasn't right, I knew you needed me. If I hadn't had meetings I would have come straight home. I should have come anyway." Really, he was furious with himself for ignoring the instinct that told him he was needed at home. How could he have prioritised work over his wife?

"Well, you're here now," Mary said, "and I… oh God!" She gasped in pain, closing her eyes and pressing her lips together.

Isobel turned around quickly and was going to rush back to Mary, until she saw that her son was managing perfectly well, massaging Mary's back with one hand, and holding her hand with the other, as he murmured reassuringly to her. She was going to make them see sense about Matthew staying, but… not just yet.

"You're doing so well, my darling," Matthew said, rubbing circles on the back of her hand as she gripped his tightly.

"How on earth do you know? I assume I'm right in guessing you know nothing about it?" Mary said sharply. It helped somehow to be angry at someone, even if it was for no good reason.

"I know because you do well at everything," Matthew said.

Mary snorted. "Flatterer," she said breathlessly. "Oh, God, will this never end?"

"It will end, Mary, it will, and we'll have a baby at the end of it. I love you so much darling. I know you can do this."

"Of course I can do it, Matthew," she snapped. "It just hurts like hell!"

Matthew swallowed awkwardly. It was hardly shocking language (after four years in the army, he believed nothing would ever shock him again anyway), but Mary never swore. Never.

He heard his mother smother laughter behind him and he turned to glare at her. There was nothing funny about the fact his wife was in enough pain to swear.

Then he heard Mary give a quiet snort of laughter and he turned back to see her smiling a little, although it looked rather strained.

"Your face, Matthew!" she said. "I have a much more colourful vocabulary than that, you know. You're so easy to shock."

"I… erm, are you alright darling?" he asked, feeling a little lost.

"I hope you realise that's a very stupid question," she said bluntly.

"Of course it is," he replied quickly. What was he thinking, of course she was not alright. "You're not, I know, but you will be."

She gave him another tight smile. "I will be more alright if you get on with that back rub you were giving me."

"Oh! Yes, of course, darling." He was so very glad there was something he could do to help, however small a difference it made. He wasn't supposed to be in the room, and he needed to prove his usefulness to justify his presence. He had always been able to deal with crises and difficult situations better when there was something useful he could do to help. He would stay and help Mary for as long as he was allowed to. When he was finally kicked out, he feared he would go out of his mind with worry.

* * *

"Matthew, you really must go now," Isobel said gently. "Go and wait with Robert."

"How can I when my wife is in such pain? And I don't want to have to wait longer than I need to see our baby. I know it's not proper or traditional, but I won't get in the way, and I couldn't care less about propriety or tradition," Matthew said stubbornly.

Isobel sighed. She had indulged them for longer than she usually would have done because Matthew's presence really did seem to help Mary. But it really was time he left. Dr Clarkson thought it very odd, and although she hadn't actually seen Robert, Isobel knew what he would think of it. And he was right. Giving birth was simply not a process in which the father was involved.

"Matthew, perhaps it would be better if you left," Mary said quietly. She was exhausted, hot and sweaty, and she knew it was only going to get worse. She wanted Matthew with her so very much, but she knew it simply wasn't done, and in truth, she didn't really want him to see her in this condition. And it didn't help that it so obviously upset him to see her in pain, and his being upset made her feel worse.

Matthew stared at her. He had thought she wanted him, needed him, that was why he was still there with her. But if she didn't want him…

"Darling, it's not that I don't want you, I do, very much. But… I don't want you to see me like this. _You_ don't want to see me like this. I know you don't. Just go and sit with Papa."

Matthew understood what Mary was saying; he did hate seeing her in pain. But she had to understand that that wasn't important. What was important was that she needed him, and if she needed him, he would be there. Always.

"You've seen me at my worst, Mary," he said urgently. "You cut the clothes off my body and washed away all the blood and the mud when they brought me home from France. You were with me when I cried like a child, you did everything for me when I could do nothing for myself." He paused, trying not to let emotion overwhelm him. He took her hand and looked into her eyes. "Of course I hate seeing you in pain, but it would be worse to know you are in pain and not to be able to see you. I will go if you don't want me, of course I will. But I want to be here to help you in any way I can, like you have always helped me."

Mary closed her eyes. She was so very tired, and this was far from over yet. Matthew's words made her want to cry, and let him hold her in his arms. But she couldn't. It would not be long before another contraction would come, and she would be struggling again not to cry out in pain. Because a Lady did not scream, and more than that, she didn't want to alarm Matthew.

"Matthew, I mean it," Isobel said. "I know you want to be here for Mary, but there really is nothing you can do. This is something we women must do on our own. And the room is already full. I promise you will be the first to hear any news."

Matthew sighed resignedly. He knew now that he was fighting a losing battle. He looked once more at Mary, and seeing her nod tiredly, decided to do as he was told. He leaned as close to Mary as he could, and she leaned closer to him.

"My beautiful, strong, magnificent wife," he said softly. "You can do this. I love you so very much. You can do this, I promise. I will leave you now, if that is what you want, but you need only call, and I will come to you. I will force my way in if they won't let me. Nothing will keep me from you, my love, not if you need me. Such good luck, my dearest darling." He kissed her hand, then left the bedroom and went to find Robert.

Mary suddenly felt very alone.

* * *

 _ **I'm sorry I've made you wait so long, but I can promise a baby in the next chapter!**_


End file.
